La Vie en Rose
by HalfBloodAlchemist-10
Summary: A heartbroken Dean travels to France to win the heart of his lover back. Along the way, he meets a conman named Castiel, and both discover love in the strangest of places. "French Kiss" movie mash up. Au. COMMENTS ARE LOVE PLEASE!
1. A Dangerous Mission

Title: La Vie en Rose (1/?)  
Author: Halfblood Alchemist  
Genre/Pairing: AU, Fluff/Romance, Humor, Dean/Castiel, some Dean/Sam Wesson (NOT WINCEST)  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Swearing, some sexual situations, mild drug and alcohol references  
Spoilers: None for SPN  
Word Count: WIP  
A/N: I decided to do another movie mash-up! This time the story will be based off of the movie "French Kiss" starring Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline. Yes, this will also be my second fic taking place outside the United States, but this one will be more extensive. Hope you guys enjoy!

EDIT/AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK APPARENTLY BECAUSE I'M GONNA GET CRAP FOR THIS I MIGHT AS WELL PUT UP YET ANOTHER DISCLAIMER. NO I AM NOT PASSING THE MOVIE OF "FRENCH KISS" OFF AS MY OWN. I WROTE THE CHARACTERS OF SUPERNATURAL INTO THE STORYLINE BECAUSE I OUT OF MY OWN CURIOSITY WANTED TO SEE WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO HAVE THEM IN THIS KIND OF SITUATION. NOT ALL OF THE STORY IS THE SAME, REACTIONS ARE DIFFERENT, THERE ARE DIFFERENCES ADDED THROUGHOUT TO MAKE THE CHARACTER PLACEMENTS BELIEVEABLE. ALSO I AM NOT TRYING TO MAKE ANYTHING FROM THIS STORY, IT'S ALL WRITTEN FOR FUN AND GAMES AND TO GIVE PEOPLE ANOTHER LOVE STORY TO ENJOY, WHETHER OR NOT IT'S A 'BASED OFF OF' STORY OR A 'MASH-UP' STORY. BUT SINCE IT SEEMS I'M GOING TO BE GETTING CRAP FOR THIS, I MIGHT AS WELL MAKE IT BOLD AND IN YOUR FACE SO YOU GET THE IDEA. ALSO IF YOU WANT TO GO ON ABOUT PLAGARIZING, TALK TO THE MOVIE MAKERS WHOM MAKE EXACT COPIES OF OLDER MOVIES FOR MONETARY GAIN. WHAT DO THEY DO? THEY CREDIT THE PREVIOUS MAKERS. SO IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER, THEN FINE, THIS IS A REMAKE AND CREDIT GOES TO THE WRITER'S OF "FRENCH KISS" AS I POINTED OUT A LOOOONG TIME AGO! AND IFI YOU DON'T LIKE IT, I HAVE PLENTY OF ORIGINAL STORIES FOR YOU TO ENJOY.

Summary: Dean and Sam, a happy couple of three years, make plans to finally settle down in the house of their dreams, when Sam leaves the country for a lawyer's convention in Paris, France. While he's away, Sam falls head over heels in love with one of the native girls and breaks up with Dean, opting to remain in France. Determined to win Sam's heart back, Dean travels to Paris to find him and take him back. On his travels, Dean meets a charming conman with a heart of gold named Castiel Molyneux, inadvertently employing his assistance through France to find his lost lover. Stolen necklaces, street fights, and 452 cheeses are all part of the road to Triumph, and both Dean and Castiel will discover love in the strangest of places. 

"_Welcome to Air France, nonstop Service Detroit to Paris. Our estimated flight time is seven hours, twenty minutes. Please have your seat belts fastened, and trays in the upright position before takeoff…"_

Dean drowned out the rest of the flight attendant's schpiel, screwing his earbuds into his ears with shaking hands. For the seventh time since he boarded the plane, he checked his seatbelt once, twice, closing the shade of his window with a thud. Taking a calming breath, Dean closed his eyes willing his hammering heart to slow before he had a coronary right there in the seat.

He didn't belong on this plane… but damn it to hell if he was getting off now! He was on a mission; one of utmost importance and come hell or high water, he was staying on this damn plane.

The aisles were too crowded for him to escape anyway. Why, oh why did he get the fucking window seat?

Feeling his terror schooled slightly, Dean ran the past few days over his mind yet again, remembering his driving force for the suicide mission he now found himself a part of. He thought to that one phone call that started it all…

_**One Week Prior**_

_Dean sighed, listening half-heartedly to the lecture from the other side of the room. He ignored the words as best as he could, unpacking his suitcase quickly. He ignored the sense of relief that grew with each article of clothing removed from the suitcase's interior, instead focusing back in on the conversation at hand. _

"_Seriously, Dean you're a freaking history teacher. I can't believe you don't wanna go to France!" Sam whined, leaning his hip against the dresser as he watched Dean work. It was almost absurd. "So what is it the French thing or is it the flying thing?"_

_Dean sighed again, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look, Sammy. It's not the French thing OR the flying thing. I gotta work Jury duty during that week and SERIOUSLY can't miss it. You, of all people, should understand that."_

"_So, just come up with something! Tell them your cousin Bridget fell in the Seine." _

_Dean glanced up, face deadpanned. "I'm not even gonna acknowledge that statement. They're gonna find out I don't HAVE a cousin Bridget, and I'll get my ass deported and THEN arrested."_

_Sam smiled, sauntering around the bed to wrap his arms around Dean's waist. "C'mon… a whole week with the man you love, in Paris? That doesn't sound appeasing?" he wheedled, nuzzling the back of Dean's neck gently._

_Dean smiled, leaning back into the embrace. "I didn't say that…" turning, he pressed a kiss to those tempting lips, emerald eyes dancing with mirth. "But the whole seduction thing's not gonna work. I'm sorry. I can't go."_

_Sam groaned, resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder. "C'mon… it won't be as much fun without you…"_

_Dean chuckled, kissing him again. "I know I'm just that awesome. It's only a week, though and I'll be right here waiting for ya. Alright? I love you Sammy… Just promise to have fun, ok?"_

_Sam nodded, giving in finally. "Alright…" with a smirk, he jabbed Dean' in the stomach slightly. "I'll tell you how that horse meat tastes, ok?"_

_Dean laughed, relief flooding his being at finally being let off the hook. _

_Yeah, he had jury duty… but it was totally the flying thing._

_A few days later, Dean heard the phone ringing from the other room and dashed as quickly as he could to catch it before he missed the call. He tripped over the cat and cursed the creature before grabbing the phone from the hook. "Hello? Hey Sammy, how's Paris?" He laughed, smiling to hear Sam's voice over the receiver._

"_Dean! DEAN!" Sam shouted into the phone. Into the background, the roar of a crowd blotted out his voice. _

_Dean frowned, straining to hear him. "Yeah, it's me. Sammy is everything alright?" Slight panic began to gnaw at his chest. Sam sounded distressed…._

"_Yeah!... no… I dunno. Something happened." Sam managed to make this clear over the phone, the noise having died down somewhat. Dean imaged that he had stepped into one of those old fashioned phone booths. He shook the thought from his mind, back on the subject matter._

"_Why, what's wrong?" He asked, worry growing quickly._

"_I dunno… I'm just so happy. I'm so happy it's fucking insane, and I totally fucked up. I fucked up Dean but… it's destiny…" Sam broke off, sounding breathless. _

_Dean blinked, shaking his head. "What are you talking about? What destiny?"_

"_Dean… I met this woman… this Goddesse… and she's… she's gorgeous and wonderful and…" Sam paused, swallowing hard. Despite his nerves, he was positively elated. "I've never felt like this before. Never felt like this with anyone…" _

_Dean froze, leaning back heavily against the wall. "Goddesse…?" mentally, he cursed himself for sounding so small and pathetic but… "Sammy… w-what are you saying?" As he spoke, the strength slowly gave out from his legs, and he slid down the wall. Why was this happening?_

"_Yeah, Dean… she's perfect and I'm… I'm not going back to Detroit. I-I'm in love, Dean. Love like a sonnet." At his own words, Sam broke off, sorrow and guilt filling his voice. "I'm sorry Dean… I'm so sorry."_

_The silence crawled by; it actually took Dean a few moments to realize that Sam had finally hung up on him. Dean dropped the phone to his side, staring at the wall before him. How was this happening to him? Why him? Sammy…_

"_Sam…"_

Dean snapped out of his revere, the sounds of an angered voice breaking through the sudden silence. Dean glanced down to see the battery symbol on his mp3 player flash before dying. "Shit…" he groaned, wrapping the cord up and tucking it away.

The shouting had not ceased; in fact it only grew more frustrated. Dean looked up to see a young man, clad in a brown leather coat holding a duffel bag and standing at the head of the aisle with one of the flight attendants. He continued his tirade, angry French words punctuating the stuffy air inside the plane. As Dean watched, he saw the man pull a ticket out with flourish and brandish it in the woman's face.

The attendant looked it over before glancing about the cabin. The moment her eyes landed on the empty seat next to Dean, he knew what was coming next. 'No, no, no…' he thought, shooting the woman a pleading look.

It didn't work.

She pointed in the direction of the seat, muttering something in French to the irate passenger.

The moment he turned, Dean found himself momentarily stunned. The man was gorgeous. Dark, mussed hair hung over his brow and down the back of his neck, a fine sheen of stubble on his sharp jaw. Intense blue eyes met his for a moment, before the Frenchman rolled them in exasperation, snatching the ticket back from the attendant.

Dean shook himself back to his senses, looking straight ahead at the seat in front of him. He fisted one hand into the pockets of his suit jacket, drumming his free hand on the top of his denim clad knee in a nervous tick. He lacked music at this moment, having forgotten to charge his music player before his hasty departure. Fuck it was hot in that plane, and creepy was coming down the aisle right now, all tough and scary and sexy looking. Shit, he needed some music. What was that song? How did it go again?

Oh yeah…

"_**I hate Paris in the springtime  
I hate Paris in the fall  
I hate Paris in the summer when it sizzles  
I hate Paris in the winter when it drizzles  
I hate Paris, oh why oh why do I hate Paris?  
Because my love is there... with his SLUT girlfriend."**_

_Dean hissed the last line in contempt, feeling a little bit better about himself. He blinked his eyes open, having the distinct feeling someone was watching him. _

_Dean turned slightly, coming eye to eye with the Frenchman at his right. Awkward moments aside, he took a moment to appreciate just how blue the guy's eyes were. "Sorry…" Dean murmured, blushing heavily under the intense gaze bestowed upon him. "Sorry, this is my first time flying so I'm just a little nervous."_

_The French guy didn't so much as blink. _

_"Do you speak any English?" Again, no response from his seat partner. "Didn't your mother ever teach you about staring?" Now Dean was just getting agitated. He shifted in his seat nervously again, shooting what he hoped looked like the glare it was supposed to be, feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment._

_The Frenchman blinked a few times before smirking a little devilish smirk. "What do you think, the plane is going to crash and we're all going to go up in flames? I assure you if that happens, you won't feel a thing." As he spoke, the words flowed out in a gravely low tone Dean did NOT suspect from the slight man. His thick accent heightened the intensity of his voice, momentarily distracting Dean from his little freak-out._

_Dean shook himself back into the present, honoring the man a nasty look. "You're French aren't you?" he seethed, slouching in his seat with worry. Beneath him the wheels began to turn, taxiing the plane out from the gate to the runway. __Oh God, I can't do this…_

_The Frenchman smiled, extending a hand to him. "Castiel Molyneux at your service." His greeting was promptly ignored. Undeterred, he continued on. "I'm curious, how did you get around your whole life or did you just stay in your house with the doors all locked?"_

_Now the guy was just starting to get on his nerves. "I get around like every other normal American in my country: a car. Now would you please stop staring at me?" Dean was near hysterics now, hyperventilating in the seat. _

_From beside him, the man Castiel chuckled with mirth, grinning like an idiot. "It is incredible. Every muscle in your body is tensing up. Even your nostrils are closing up, how do you do that?" he leaned forward, leaning his elbow on Dean's armrest in a hard display of personal space invasion. "Do you ever wonder if it's actually the plane you're afraid of?"_

_Dean blinked, successfully distracted from the growing speed of their take-off. "What do you mean?" he asked, glancing at Castiel with confusion._

Castiel smiled triumphantly, reaching over to pull the shade back up. He laughed to see Dean squeeze his eyes shut against the rushing images past his window. "It is obvious it is not the plane you fear. I know your type."

Now Dean was really interested. "What type is that?"

As if he had the world's greatest secret in his hands, Castiel leaned back, honoring Dean with a gorgeous smile. "You're afraid to live. Really live. You are afraid of life. You are afraid of love. You are afraid of sex."

Dean stared at him, thoroughly scandalized. "WHAT? What the hell's the matter with you, you don't even know me!" he raged, forgetting about the shuddering plane around him. He had a reputation dammit, and no Frenchman was gonna ruin it for him!

Castiel laughed, listening to Dean flounder under his gaze. Perhaps his plan was working after all…

"And yeah ok there was a couple months where I just didn't feel like it, but that was a long time ago and I was in between teaching jobs! Don't judge me, you're just some nicotine saturated, hygiene deficient drunken Frenchman!" Dean rattled on, now completely forgotten about the take off.

Castiel glanced over Dean's shoulder and smiled, the grin much gentler than previous. "Look at that fantastic view…" he breathed, turning Dean to face the window.

Dean blinked, stunned by the sight. He made it. He made it up into the air without dying! He was so enthralled, he didn't even notice Castiel stand and leave the seat at that moment.

Castiel headed down the aisle towards the rear of the plane, pulling out a cigarette as he walked. Lighting the paper cylinder, he smiled watching Dean's eyes bore into the beautiful scenery below him.

Mission accomplished.

Castiel pulled two bottles of vodka from his pocket, pouring a glass for himself. Glancing at Dean, he offered the second bottle with a smile.

Dean took the glass in a tentative hand, eyeing the small man next to him. "T-thanks…" he murmured, taking a sip of the strong liquor.

Castiel nodded, and the two fell back into silence.

"C-Can I ask you something? It's Castyel right?"

Castiel shook his head, correcting his pronunciation. "Now you were going to ask me something?" He prodded, leaning towards Dean.

Dean shied away from him slightly, feeling a bit claustrophobic. "D-do I really look like the kind of guy that doesn't know how to have a good time? I'm not normally this reserved but… well…" Dean broke off, looking a bit ashamed.

"Ehm… you were how old when you lost 'it'? You know you're eh… flower."

Dean, again, looked scandalized. "Dude, my flower is none of your business!" he snapped, taking a heavy drink to drown it out.

Castiel laughed, shaking his head with bewilderment. "I'm only asking because I'm trying to read you properly. You see, there are two kinds of people. Some who guard their virginity like a precious gift, while others rush into it, impatient to wait for the day they set it free."

"Lemme guess, you rushed."

"Like a bull."

Dean snorted, glancing at Castiel through narrowed eyes. "Yeah I got a picture in my mind, it's pretty damn clear… How young?"

Castiel thought for a moment, biting his lip. "Thirteen."

Dean started, nearly dropping the glass. "THIRTEEN?"

"… You're right… I was twelve. Her name was Megara, she was the village _putain _or prostitute. She was not beautiful but she had this mouth on her… I swear it was another world. But I did not have enough money for the kissing, just the sex."

Dean stared at him confused. "Wait, I don't get it… not enough for the KISSING?"

Castiel shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "It always costs more to kiss a prostitute. It's just the way it is."

Dean nodded in understanding. "Ah, that makes sense. A kiss is so intimate… you just get lost in the kiss…" He trailed off; realizing the look Castiel was shooting him. Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged noncommittally, burying himself in the vodka. "I meant that the kiss is where the romance is…"

Castiel smiled, draining the remainder of his vodka. "Now you. Tell me about your deflowering."

Dean frowned, twiddling his thumbs quietly. "Alright… ok you're right I didn't rush but I didn't hide either. I was seventeen… high school prom. Behind the bleachers during the dance. Guy's name was Andrew, and we were getting pretty hot and heavy. We had just gotten to the good part, when his girlfriend walked past the bleachers and found the both of us screwing around on the ground. She turned us over to the principle and we both got suspended for a month."

Castiel laughed, nodding slightly.

"So yeah, the first time was bad but then it got better and then I met Sammy and it's been great ever since." As he spoke about Sam, Dean trailed off, remembering the words Sam had said to him over the phone. "… Can I as you something?"

Castiel nodded. "I'm all ears." He leaned forward like he was hearing some conspiratorial secret. He didn't miss the way Dean leaned in as well, the two sharing a secret from the rest of the patrons sharing their tight quarters.

"Do you believe in destiny, the love that lasts forever?"

Castiel bit his lip, quirking an eyebrow at him. "That's not a very interesting question, Dean. It 's a question for little girls."

"I'm just saying, do you believe in one love between a couple that can't be changed?"

Castiel frowned, glancing at the seat in front of him for a moment. "… I loved my mother."

Dean, already feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges, laughed. "Oh I get it… monogamy is like eating home for the rest of your life, and you like to go out to a different restaurant every night, eh?" As he spoke, he jabbed Castiel in the stomach, feeling something solid against his side. "Hey, what's that?"

Castiel all but panicked. He leapt to his feet, looking flustered and shocked. "Careful! I eh… I-I have to go!" he stammered, slithering down the aisle towards the back of the plane.

Dean blushed, downing the rest of his drink in one go. "That was weird…" he murmured, unable to hide the flush on his cheeks. Really weird…

Castiel turned to the mirror in the bathroom, glancing at himself briefly. He untucked his blue shirt, letting a little cloth torpedo fall from the underside of his shirts. He unwrapped it quickly to reveal a small little plant within the burlap.

Setting the plant into the sink, he turned the water on, letting it flow over the bound roots for a few minutes. With a smile he pulled another cloth wrap from his pocket and laid it across the counter reverently. Patting it dry, he unwrapped it to reveal a diamond necklace, the price tag still attached to it. Within the cloth wrap, a piece of paper sat, protected from the water in the plant.

The worth of the necklace was scrawled across the paper in his handwriting: $200,000 diamond necklace. Castiel smirked, wrapping the necklace up again before hiding it within the burlap wrap on the vine.

Never let it be said that Castiel Molyneux was an incompetent thief.

Pocketing the plant, he slipped out the door and headed back to his seat. What he saw made him pause.

Dean was sleeping , leaned up against the window in his doze.

Castiel bit his lip, glancing up at the overhead compartment. What's the best way to smuggle an illegal plant, and a stole multi-thousand dollar necklace? Use someone unsuspecting. Perfect.

Castiel reached up and unzipped Dean's backpack with a deft hand. He slipped the wrapped vine and necklace into the bottom of the compartment before zipping it back shut.

Success. Now he just needed to stick with him until he least expected it, and he was off on his own.

In the terminal, Dean leaned against the walkway, feeling a bit hung over. "Ugh… why did you let me drink so much?" he groused, glaring at the man next to him.

Castiel shrugged, letting out a puff of smoke casually blowing it in Dean's face. "I didn't do anything, you did it yourself. Come, I'll give you a ride into Paris it will save you a lot of money."

Dean shrugged, ignoring him slightly. "Fine… I'm staying at the George V…"

Castiel blinked, eyes widening. "No shit?" he gave a low whistle, the conversation ending there. As they prepared to leave the terminal, a security guard waved Castiel over, wand in hand. "Eh… I'll meet you outside." He murmured, secretly glad he'd ditched the vine already.

Castiel kept his eye trained on Dean, as the security guard rifled through his belongings. "_Sir, I need to you step.."_ The guard didn't even finish.

A short man with light brown hair and a jolly gleam in his hazel eyes stepped forward, waving his officer's badge before the guard. "_That won't be necessary. Give him his paperwork, and his belongings."_

Castiel blinked, a smile growing on his face. "_Gabriel, you dog, what are you doing here?"_

"_What, a cop doesn't deserve a vacation?"_ the officer Gabriel threw an arm around Castiel's shoulders, guiding him away from the security booth. "_I believe you still owe me that drink, Castiel."_

"_I know I do, Gabe but eh… what if I called you on Monday?" _the thief murmured, looking around for Dean. DAMN! He lost him!

"_Why wait until Monday when we got all the time in the world now?" _

Castiel frowned, glancing around one last time for Dean. He was nowhere to be found. _"… alright we can. Let's go." _ He said, following the cop in the opposite direction. The opposite direction from Dean, the vine and that bloody fucking necklace.

Shit…

TBC…


	2. Welcome to Paris

**Chapter 2**

Dean stepped out of the taxi he had managed to secure back at the airport, staring up at the hotel front before him. "Damn…" he breathed, eyeing the ornate façade with a wide eyed wonder. No kidding Sam was on a business trip in the first place…

Dean tore his eyes from the building front, shaking himself awake as he trudged into the hotel. All around him, people bustled about, securing rooms from the concierge desk or milling about the lobby during their holiday stays. As he stood just inside the doorway, he got a puff of smoke to the face, coughing slightly as the woman standing next to him dragged on the cigarette, eyeing him lazily. Did EVERYONE in this bloody country smoke? He mused to himself, dragging his suitcase and backpack towards the concierge desk.

Dean rested his elbows on the mahogany counter top, glancing about the area with a curious eye. It really was nice here; he could never imagine himself affording to stay in a hotel like this. As he waited for the clerk, he thought back to the past several hours, noting with a sense of self-satisfaction that he had actually done it. He'd actually gotten on a plane and flown to Paris. Sam would be proud of him.

He'd purposefully keep his little secret about the man Castiel that had helped him get over his fear in the first place. Bastard hadn't even shown up like he said he would… By default all credit went to Dean, he figured, smirking.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the concierge approach, smiling. "Good morning, _monsieur_. And how may I be of service?" the man asked, smiling a shallow smile at the obvious tourist before him.

Dean startled, looking up. "Ah yes… em. _Bonjour_… Ah, I was just, em…. Hoping you could help me out. I'm looking for Sam Wesson, and I was wondering if you could tell me which room he's staying in." he said, stuttering over his words slightly. He felt just a little bit small under the cynical eye of the Frenchman standing before him.

The concierge smiled that shallow smile again, shaking his head. "I'm afraid, no _monsieur_." He said simply. "Perhaps you could try the courtesy phone?"

Dean sighed. "Well, _monsieur _has already tried the courtesy phone." He said, struggling to rein in his frustration.

"And I presume 'do not disturb', am I right?"

Dean nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. Bastard was already starting to piss him off. As the moment of silence crept by, Dean sighed in frustration, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look… I just flew seven hours over an ocean. I'm tired and hungry and I just want to see Samuel Wesson, ok? Now are you gonna help me or not?"

The concierge's smile grew sour, eyes narrowing at Dean. "_Monsieur_, as concierge it is my duty to safeguard the privacy of our guests. And if our guests need safeguarding from their own appointments, I shall withhold to that. After all, France is not a nation of puritanical hypocrites."

Dean bristled, glaring at the concierge. Willing himself with all his power not to reach across and bitch-slap that little croissant, he thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad of French currency. He slapped a bill down on the counter, looking haughtily at the concierge. His countenance fell instantly the moment he took the bill and turned to walk away. "Hey! I just gave you 100 francs!"

"Indeed you did. And I took it, thank you."

Dean balked, watching the man walk away with his money. He threw his hands up into the air, turning away with a huff.

French bastard…

* * *

Dean sat at the complimentary bar, drinking his jet-lag away. Every ping of the nearby elevator threw him to his feet, but he deflated with every pass of guests. He sighed, not really caring how drunk he got at that moment. It was better than the repeated burns he got to his ego. This really wasn't working out like he hoped it would. Like his grand scheme really was gonna pan out anyway…

As Dean reached into his pocket to pull out another bill, a hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He looked up to see a man wearing a suit, smiling down at him. He was slightly balding and wore the gaudiest yellow shirt Dean had ever seen.

"Allow me." The man said, sitting down next to Dean. He ordered another round of drinks, smiling at Dean buried himself into it with abandon. Next to the man sat a huge black mastiff, the dog growling slightly at Dean. He shied away from the huge cur, eyes slightly wide.

"Pardon me for intruding, but I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all by yourself… looking so sad," The man spoke eloquently, his British accent absurdly out of place with his location. "And I asked myself, 'why would someone as elegant as you be looking so sad? This is Paris, city of love."

"Uh huh…" Dean muttered, doing his best to ignore the man.

He was doing a pretty good job of it, until the man inched closer to him, resting a hand on his knee. "Let me help you forget your sadness. This is a city of enjoyment and love… and I can remedy that in any… way… you wish." He said, inching his hand up Dean's thigh.

Dean leapt about four feet into the air. He spun on the man, glaring daggers at him, overturning the glass of whiskey. "DUDE, GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME! I'm sitting here waiting to meet my boyfriend, and if he sees you here feeling me up like the pervert you are, he's gonna come over here and…"

Dean paused, staring at the man. Said man was watching something over Dean's shoulder, eyebrow cocked appreciatively. He whistled low, smiling crookedly at the sight.

Dean turned, confused at the sudden change of subject. His heart plummeted into his stomach.

Across the lobby stood Sam and in his arms was a beautiful woman with long, flowing brown hair. She wore a red mini-dress with a midriff leather jacket and laced up heels. The two were wrapped in each other's arms, playing a rather graphic game of tonsil hockey right in the middle of the lobby. As Dean watched in horror, Sam pulled a key from his pocket, waving it leeringly in her face. She smiled, nibbling his ear as the two strode over to the far elevator, closing themselves inside with a final kiss.

Dean felt dizzy. He wasn't quite sure if it was the booze or if he really was just that much of a girl, but the last thing he remembered was the man laughing and talking about a brilliant display before he hit the floor with a solid 'thud!'

The man stared at Dean's prone form for a moment before grinning. Reaching down, he grabbed the suitcase and the backpack, striding from the hotel lobby with his beloved dog in tow. "That was too easy…"

* * *

He wasn't quite sure where he was, the sounds of voices a distant, garbled mess in his ears. He groaned slightly, feeling a slight tapping on his cheek. As he prepared to ignore said tapping and slip back into blessed oblivion, a sharp slap stung his face and he came to with a start. "Bluh..! S-Sammy…" he groaned, opening his eyes.

Instead of soft hazel eyes, his own met a sharp contrast of midnight blue, a familiar, stubbled face coming into focus. "Oh god, not you again…" he groaned, sitting up with some difficulty.

Castiel sighed, helping Dean to his feet. "I'm glad to see you as well." He said sarcastically. "Now come, I'll take you to your room." He said, throwing Dean's arm over his shoulders.

"I don't have a room… some fruity bitch took my room, wearing a micro mini and leather…" Dean slurred, finding himself seated on a low couch. Damn, but did he have a headache. He reached absentmindedly for his bag, remembering a bottle of painkillers he'd stuffed in the side pocket. He reached for the bag, only to find empty space next to him. "… oh my GOD! MY BAGS!" he yelped, jumping to his feet.

About ten seconds of silence filled the air before Castiel full out panicked. "Your Bags? Your bags are GONE? THEY CAN'T BE GONE!" he yelped, fumbling about the couch and cushions, looking for his precious vine… not to mention said 200 grand necklace.

"What the hell are you looking there for, I lost my SUITCASE!" Dean yelled, the two attracting unwanted attention.

The concierge rushed over, a look of dread on his face. "_What is going on here?"_

"_This man has lost his suitcases, and there are precious items in them! Did you see the suitcases?" _Castiel asked, frantic. The two bantered back and forth for a minute, with no results. With this new revelation, Castiel whirled on Dean, his face a mask of anger. "HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?"

Dean jumped back, shocked at Castiel's obvious fury. "Dude, what is your problem, they were MY BAGS!"

Castiel whipped around, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "Never mind! What do you remember happening? Who was around you when you fainted?"

"I did NOT faint!" Dean retorted hotly. "I was sitting here and this Euro-trash-in-Armani suit kind of bastard came over and started making a pass at me. Then I…" he broke off, swallowing thickly at the memory. "I saw Sammy…" he managed, voice cracking slightly. He would never admit it, but his body took the opportunity to sway dangerously, memories too much for his inebriated mind to handle.

"Oh boy, here we go again…" Castiel groaned, sitting Dean down. He began rhythmically rocking Dean forward and back, his head between his knees. "Breathe… breathe…"

"Dude, I'm fucking breathing, I'm gonna throw up on your shoes if you don't stop!" he snapped, sitting up. He glared at him, straightening his sport coat with indignity.

Castiel backed off, putting his hands up in surrender. "Ok fine… the guy… he was… " he stopped, a dawning realization hitting him. "Did he have an English accent unlike mine? Did he have a dog with him?"

"Yeah… scary fucking dog if you ask me."

"Damn!" Castiel hissed, jumping to his feet. He grabbed Dean's wrist, dragging him from the lobby. "Come, I know exactly who it was!"

Dean rolled his eyes, following quickly. "Of course you do, all you bastards know each other…" he muttered, hissing- yes, hissing- at the concierge as the two passed.

Outside, Castiel stopped Dean, glancing up and down the strip. "Wait here… I'll get eh... my car and we'll go to his apartment." He said. After making sure Dean wouldn't run off again, he darted down the street, glancing over his shoulder. He spotted the perfect vehicle, and once making sure no one was around, he broke in and disconnected the alarm.

Not his best heist, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

* * *

Dean tried not to have a heart attack, sitting curled up in the speeding vehicle. He held the handle in a vice like grip, watching the streets pass by far too quickly. He yelped as they barely missed hitting another car, glaring at the lunatic driver he was currently riding with.

Castiel didn't even seem to notice his repeated close calls, smoking his cigarette down to the nub as he worried the filter between his teeth. He flicked the butt out the window, yelling at innocent drivers as he sped down the streets recklessly.

"So…" Castiel said, glancing over at Dean.

"DUDE DON'T LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT THE STREET!"

"Fine, fine. So, eh let me understand. He meets this eh… goddesse… nono, this Bastard Woman and breaks your heart over the phone. So you come here to Paris so he can do it again, is that right?"

"No it's not right. I came here to get my boyfriend back, is that so freaking hard for you to understand?" Dean snapped, tightening his grip on the handle. "I came here to get him back! Once he saw me everything would work out alright, the spell would be broken! I'd remind him about us. We had a wonderful life together."

Castiel laughed, swerving through the traffic. "Evidently."

Dean remained resolute, ignoring the blush crawling up his cheeks. "I've never been so happy with someone. Never."

"When someone tells me they are happy, my ass begins to twitch." Castiel muttered, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eye. "And if all else failed? What, you'd get down on your knees and beg?"

"… it's possible."

"Oh ho, now I can see it. There's Sammy with the goddess in her negligee and you on your knees, begging. Poor Sammy. Tough Decision."

Dean made to retort, but the sudden and rough parking job Castiel took shook him from the moment. He staggered out of the car, thankful for blessed, solid ground. He followed Castiel, ignoring the nasty looks other pedestrians shot them as they walked away from the poorly parked car. "Ok, hot shot, if you know so much about relationships, how come no one picked you up at the airport?"

"Please, I'm finished with women!"

Dean smirked. "What haven't found the right one yet?"

"Oh believe me, I've found plenty." Castiel shot back, lighting a cigarette in contempt to the grilling.

"I know what your problem is..." Dean said triumphantly, smirking at Castiel. "You have no staying power."

Castiel froze, heat flooding up the back of his neck. "What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to brush off the question.

"It's obvious, you can't stick it out."

Castiel chewed his cigarette nervously, shifting where he stood. "I-it is?"

Dean made a face, wondering at the suddenly uncomfortable look on Castiel's face. "Yeah! You're afraid of commitment! Why what did you think I was talking ab-…" Dean broke off, a lewd smile crossing his face. "Oohh… THIS problem…" he laughed, making a droopy symbol with his finger.

"It's NOT A PROBLEM! I'm under a lot of stress lately!" Castiel shot back, stamping his ruined cigarette on the ground. "Soon it will all be over, and then I'm back in business, ok?" And to emphasize his point, Castiel grabbed Dean's wrist again and dragged him from the street before any other ridicule could be brought.

He stomped his way into a decrepit apartment complex, running up the narrow stairs to the fourth floor. He didn't bother waiting for Dean to come up the steps as he burst into the first apartment he came up on.

Inside, sat the thief, his dog lying obediently at his feet.

"Crowley…" Castiel seethed, crossing his arms. "_Where is the shit?"_

"_What shit?" _ Crowley asked, smiling innocently at Castiel.

"_Don't bullshit me! The bags you stole from my friend earlier today!" _As he spoke, Castiel spied the backpack he had hidden the vine in and snatched it from the counter. He came up empty. "_I'll ask again… WHERE IS HIS SHIT?" _he snarled, advancing on the thief.

Dean ran inside and grabbed his bag, rifling through the remaining items. There wasn't much left. "Where are my clothes? My money? My passport?" he yelped, his face draining of color.

Castiel was too busy rifling through the closets and cupboards to answer right away. After a moment, he turned, fisting his hair. _"His clothes?"_

"_I sold them to Monique…"_

"_Monique? The bull?"_

Dean blinked, pretty fucking sure he just heard the name 'Monique' cross their lips. "What the fuck's going on? Where's my shit?"

"He sold it all!" Castiel snapped, too busy tearing apart the room to really pay attention. After a moment, he stopped, rounding on the thief. "_You sold EVERYTHING?"_

"_I sold everything but…"_

"_But what?"_

"_But that…" _he murmured, pointing at the window.

Castiel's eyes widened in momentary disbelief. Running to the window with a flying hope in his heart, he glanced out onto the window basket. Sure enough, there the vine sat safe and sound.

"_Thank God…"_ Castiel breathed, grabbing the tiny vine in gentle hands. He practically cradled the thing to his chest, ignoring the mess he made in the apartment and walking past Dean without so much as a second glance.

Dean stared after him, surprise evident on his face. After a moment, he followed, ignoring the thief and his dog as he left the destroyed apartment.

Outside, he cornered Castiel, backing him and his precious plant into a corner.

"You hid a PLANT in my BAG?" he shouted, a threat to punch his lights out.

Castiel narrowed his eyes, holding the plant away from his angered companion. "it's not a plant, it's a VINE!" he responded indignantly. Never insult his vine!

Dean threw his arms in the air in exasperation again, storming away. "What the fuck man, what if I'd been stopped at customs, eh?"

Castiel sighed, holding the vine up. "You don't understand. This vine is my future. I'm going to make a great vineyard and get out of this shit hole of a city we call Paris! I'm going to mix the best vines to make the perfect blend-!" As he spoke, he ran smack into Dean's back, stumbling from the sudden halt.

Dean shook his head, looking back at Castiel. "Why am I even talking to you, this is bullshit! Everything with you is bullshit! Go away and stop following me!"

Castiel stopped, watching Dean walk away in a huff. "Fine! Good day to you! Go and find yourself a little boy to boss around but don't let him out of your sight for more than three minutes!" As he shouted to Dean, he growled in the back of his throat, having received a parting one-fingered salute from the man.

Well good riddance, he thought to himself. Storming off down the street, he tried not to think about Dean off on his own in the city with no money or passport. No clothes. Alone in Paris. Lost….

Castiel shook his head, coming up to a small tiered garden. In his musings he hadn't even noticed the distance he walked. Surprised, he sat on the low slung wall, cradling his head in his hands. Well that could have gone smoother.

Deciding not to think about it, Castiel lifted the vine, checking it over for damage. As he surveyed the fragile stem, he felt the burlap wrapped bottom for the extra bulge he knew should have been there.

Alas, it was not.

Castiel's eyes widened again, and he ripped the burlap open to check the roots.

Son of a bitch, the necklace was gone!

"SHIT! SHITSHITSHIT!" Castiel raged, almost dropping the vine to the ground. He glanced up, a dawning realization in the back of his mind. "Crowley…" he hissed, taking off down the street.

Less than twenty minutes later, Castiel found himself back in Crowley's apartment, trying to choke the life out of him. He was rather surprised to see big and scary still lying on the ground drooling, while his master was buffeted around the apartment.

"_G-good… boy…" _Crowley choked, glaring at his dog. "_I don't know what necklace you're talking about. It must still be in her bag!" _he managed to get past Castiel's hands, eyes going fuzzy around the edges.

Castiel stilled, running the idea over in his head. "Ah…" he murmured, dropping Crowley to the ground unceremoniously. _"Thank you for the enlightening thought. Have a lovely day…" _he murmured, striding from the apartment.

"_No problem…" _ Crowley coughed, flopping over onto the floor. He stared up at his dog for a moment, taking a moment to breathe.

"_You're going to the pound for this…"_

Sitting up, Crowley rubbed his throat, a deliciously evil thought crossing his mind. What better way to exact revenge on thine enemies? Reaching for the phone, he dialed quickly, waiting for the other end to pick up.

"_Hello, I wish to speak to __Gendarme Gabriel Lambert. I have information on a stolen diamond necklace…"_

_

* * *

_

Dean stormed his way back into the _George V_, marching up to the concierge desk. He slammed his hand down on the bell, smiling wickedly at the same said concierge "Yeah, me again."

"Welcome back, _monsieur_…" he replied, that same shit-eating grin on his face.

Dean snorted, leaning over the counter. "It's amazing how you do that. You say one thing but the meaning is totally different." Dean grinned, watching with satisfaction as the smile slipped from the clerk's face. "Tell me, is that a French thing or a concierge thing? Because let me tell you… when you do that it just gets under my fucking skin and it makes me COMPLETELY INSANE!"

The whole lobby fell silent at Dean's outburst, everyone watching as the obviously irate customer screamed at the concierge. Same said concierge blushed, ripping the bell from the counter in fear that Dean would throw it at him.

"Thank you for the enlightening lesson in our cultural differences!" he said hastily, looking around at the people staring at him. "I suppose it wouldn't betray our code to inform you that he is no long our guest. The Carlton Hotel in Cannes will have that pleasure as of now."

Dean nodded, leaning back. "Thank you." He smiled sweetly, turning to leave.

"If you like I can arrange for a taxi. You should be able to catch the last train tonight, if you wish!" he offered further, hoping to placate the man in front of the counter.

Dean smiled, winking at him. "See, that's what I call customer service." And without another word, Dean strode outside with what remained of his belongings, for the first time feeling successful since his whole rat race began.

* * *

TBC…

A/N: no good? Very good? LEAVE FEEDBACK AND LET ME KNOW! MY brain plot bunnies are fueled by your kind words :3


	3. Nighttime Revelations

**Chapter 3**

"One ticket to Cannes, _monsieur. _Have a pleasant trip." The ticket master said with a delightful smile. He slid the ticket across the counter towards Dean, waving the next person in line up to the booth.

Dean smiled, pocketing the ticket with relief. That went fairly smoothly, he thought to himself. His good mood was short lived; however, as he ran smack into a warm, solid, all too familiar body. Glancing up, he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dude… do you not get the hint?"

Castiel smirked, spreading his arms wide in submission. "I come to make peace with you and your journey. I see you are still on your mission to find Sam?" he added, glancing at the ticket in Dean's jacket pocket. "I must say, your persistence is quite admirable. May I help you with your bag?"

As he reached for the strap, eyes boring heavily into the material to try and scope out his prize, Dean snatched it away with a growl. "Whoa… o-ok, maybe not." The thief murmured, tailing Dean silently through the platform.

As they walked, Castiel tried a different tactic, screwing on a regretful appearance. "You know, I am feeling some strange emotions for me. Regret, Remorse. My self esteem is rock bottom! What could I do to possibly make it up to you, I ask myse-"

"Shut up, Cas. You haven't spent a minute with me where you didn't want something out of me, so what is it this time? Buy, sell or trade?"

Castiel paused, blinking in confusion at the sudden use of a nickname. He shook it off after a moment, sprinting to catch up with Dean. "It is true! I did use you, but how could I possibly make it up to you?" Castiel glanced up after a moment, a sight catching him out of the corner of his eye.

Damn. Gendarme Gabriel was there with his team… and they were looking for someone. "Eehh… em, h-how could I make this up to you, I say to myself? Well, I have made my decision, and now I am here for you…" Castiel barely got the words out of his mouth before he whipped around, taking off in the other direction.

Dean turned, confused at the sudden silence behind him. He sighed, noting Castiel's vanishing act, yet again. "Typical…"

Castiel dashed across the platform, whipping around a corner to flee the officers. Unfortunately in his mad dash, he didn't pay attention to who caught sight of him, and he literally ran into the Gendarme himself. Castiel staggered back, swallowing nervously. "_H-Hello, Gabe. What brings you here on this fine morning?" _he tried, smiling innocently.

Gabriel smirked, advancing on his friend menacingly. "_Following a lead on a big fish. You know… I do miss the good old chases… nothing like a game of cops and robbers, eh Castiel?" _As he spoke, he motioned to his men to remain still at the moment. He reached out, cupping the back of Castiel's neck, bringing him forehead to forehead. "_Run, little mouse, run. The big cat's coming for you."_

He needed no further prompting. Castiel bolted, fleeing in the opposite direction. He glanced over his shoulder to see Gabriel let the proverbial dogs loose on him, the officers running through the platform to try and catch him.

Castiel panicked, putting on an extra burst of speed. Sure, he was faster than many of those fat pigs at the station, but these guys were his age, and his caliber. He turned back in time to see a cart of suitcases cross his path. With a flying leap, Castiel cleared the cart, hearing with satisfaction as one of the officers tripped and fell over the obstacle.

Apparently, track did come in handy during school.

Castiel smirked, whooping in success as he managed to put ample distance between himself and the officers on his tail. As he rounded a corner, however, he saw Gabriel not twenty feet before him. He stopped short, darting down a small corridor. On the other side, he found himself on the main tracks, glancing about wildly. He paused, hearing the oncoming officers closing in fast.

Thinking quickly, he darted out onto the tracks, weaving in between cars and engines in his flight. Which train was Dean's?

He looked around, cursing his bad luck. If he couldn't find his train, he was screwed. Suddenly, he saw it: the train number. Smiling, he made to head over to the track, but stopped when he heard the unmistakable click of gun hammers. Turning slowly, he came in sight of three officers, all drawn and poised to shoot if necessary.

"_Come with us quietly."_ One ordered, staring hard at their intended prisoner.

Castiel glanced over to see Gabriel watching the exchange. He knew what he had to do.

Stepping forward silently, Castiel stepped into the middle of one of the tracks and stopped right in the path of an oncoming train.

The officers panicked, trying to urge Castiel to move before he was crushed, yet unwilling to step into the path of the approaching behemoth. Gabriel watched in horror as the train bore down on his friend. "_CASTIEL, MOVE!" _he shouted, running to catch up.

He was moments too late. As he approached the track, the train barreled past the officers at screaming speed, Castiel lost from sight. The officers stared in horror, unable to fathom what just happened. As Gabriel watched, a strange sensation filled the pit of his stomach, and he blinked. Something wasn't right…

After a few moments, the train passed, but there was a grand lack of gore and body parts everywhere. Gabriel blinked, looking around.

Two tracks over, the train to Cannes began to depart the platform, and hanging off the caboose was none other than their thief, Castiel. The thief waved to Gabriel with a broad smile on his face, winking at him, as the train left the station in a huff of wheels and gears.

Gabriel smirked, laughing right out. "_You win again, Castiel." _ He said, raising a hand to stop his officers from stepping forward. _"But eventually, let the cat succeed for once." _

With that statement, Gabriel turned from the tracks, leading his men out of there, one final glance over his shoulder at his friend's impossible mission.

"_Until then…"_

_

* * *

_

"So I ask myself what I can do to possibly make it up to you." Castiel blurted, flopping next to Dean on the seat in the train car. A huge shit-eating grin streaked across his face as he watched Dean squirm under his presence. "So I buy this ticket, and get on the train and now I am here for you." Castiel finished his statement with a wink, leaning against Dean's shoulder to prod at his chest playfully.

Dean blinked, shoving Castiel off of him with a huff. "You come. You go. You promise one thing and do something else. Why should I believe anything you have to say NOW, Cas?"

Castiel shrugged, switching to the opposite seat across from Dean. "Because I have no reason to lie now. I mean, honestly, do I look like the kind of guy who-"

"YOU! You look like the kind of guy who steals the liquor bottles off an airplane. You look like the fucking klepto-maniac you are that offers someone a ride in the STOLEN car! You look like the kind of guy that hides a plant in a person's bag!-"

Castiel sighed, pulling a cigarette out and screwing it between his lips. "Ok, ok. I get it…" he growled, blushing slightly.

"Hey! Hell no, this is a no-smoking compartment!"

At the outburst, Castiel shrugged, putting it away just as quickly. "Ok, ok. See? I'm changing and growing. All to help you. See, we help each other, unless you still think you don't need my assistance. After all, do you have a plan for when you see Sam?" Silence. "Still no? You're going into a battle with no strategy? No Armor? No bullshit?"

"I don't need bullshit to get Sammy back…" Dean huffed, his turn to look sheepish now.

"A little bit MIGHT be handy…"

Dean sighed, giving up for the time being. "Fine. Whatever, do what you want it's a free country, right?"

Castiel blinked, smirking inwardly. "I promise, I will help you, Dean. But you have to trust me. Ok?"

Dean shrugged, turning away from the thief to watch the scenery. The compartment fell into silence, the two passengers shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Castiel sighed, lounging on the opposite seat, feet propped up on the arm rest. He smiled at Dean, earning himself a half-grin in return. It was progress, no?

* * *

As night fell, Dean propped his backpack up next to him, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He flipped the image gallery open, skimming through his many pictures of Sam with a contented smile on his face. He was so caught up in his gazing, he didn't notice Castiel return to the compartment with two bottles in each hand.

The thief smiled, glancing at the phone in his companion's hand. "Are those pictures of Sam?" When he received a wordless nod, he inched forward. "May I…?"

Dean shrugged, shifting over in his seat. He dropped his bag on the floor away from him, making room for Castiel on the seat. He flipped back to the beginning of the gallery, holding the phone between them for the two to browse through.

"How did you two meet?" he wondered, watching as the images flowed past him on the screen. He frowned at the images but bit his cheek to keep from commenting just yet.

"At a party. I'd just moved to Detroit for the new teaching job and we got to talking. Spent the whole night just hanging out and getting to know each other. I think I knew right away that he was the one… it wasn't exactly a thunderclap. It was more like a.. eh…"

"Light drizzle?"

Dean blinked, glancing at the man sitting next to him. "You honestly haven't had feelings like that for anyone?"

Castiel smirked. "If I did I wouldn't admit it."

"And why wouldn't you admit it?" Dean prodded, shifting to look more directly at his seat partner.

Castiel shrugged, taking the phone to gaze more intently at the images. "Why? Look where that's gotten you."

Dean laughed, shrugging out of his sport coat casually. "Well maybe if you did you wouldn't have that little problem we're not supposed to talk about."

Castiel outright ignored that statement, pointing at a solo image of Sam on the screen. "There's something in his eyes… vain I think. He knows he's handsome, you can see it in his smile. Not even a smile a…eh… smirk. It is a word, right?"

Dean bristled again, glaring at Castiel. "Shut up. Is that a word?"

Castiel leaned back, handing him the phone. "Why are you chasing after him, anyway? After what he's done to you? I wouldn't peg you to be one of those types that seem so dependent on someone. You're too strong for that, Dean."

Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I love him, ok? And… and I'm just afraid that if I lose him I'll shrivel up into this bitter old man and never be able to love anyone again. I didn't exactly have the best track record when it comes to people sticking around with me, ok?" his voice took on a hurt tone, the obvious pain in his soft green eyes.

Castiel softened at the sight, leaning closer to clasp a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You say that now but… after a time you would start to forget. First you'll forget his nose, his chin. You'll struggle to remember the exact shade of his eyes. And then one day you'll wake up and he'll be gone. His voice, smell, his face…. He will have left you anyway. And then…" at this Castiel took Dean's wrist emphatically, looking downtrodden at his own words. "Then you can begin again."

Dean stared into the soft blues of Castiel's eyes, swallowing slightly. He shifted in his seat, tucking his phone in his pocket before resting his head on the seat next to him. He didn't speak again, the thief's words mulling around in his head as he contemplated the truth in them.

Castiel sighed, standing up. "I'll… I'll leave you alone now…" as he turned, his eyes landed on the backpack next to Dean. After a moment, he abandoned the thought of attempting to rifle through the interior for the necklace… He'd check later when Dean was asleep.

* * *

Castiel startled awake, having been jolted from his sleep with a particularly hard bump of the train. He sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he looked about the compartment in a sort of dazed puzzlement.. He stilled, seeing Dean lying asleep on the opposing seat, the backpack nestled under his head in a mock pillow.

Castiel swallowed, looking about the compartment for a moment. The clock read well past midnight and the whole car seemed pretty quiet. Now was as good a time as any, he figured, shifting to kneel on the floor silently. He inched closer, surveying the best way to look inside the bag without waking the sleeping man.

Moving the bag from under him was a big no. If Dean woke, how would he explain himself to the dazed figure? He tried to see if he could peek inside without having to move anything, but came up short when he noticed the opening was pointed towards the back of the seat, under Dean's head. Castiel sighed, resting his head in his hands. This was going to be harder than he thought.

The minutes ticked by, and still Castiel had no sure fire plan to check without taking some sort of risk. His best bet would be just to go for it. Whatever happened happened. He just needed to make sure it was in there.

He inched even closer, leaning his hip against the front of the seat gently. Taking Dean's wrist, Castiel lifted his arm and draped it over the sleeping man's chest, freeing up space for himself. He took a calming breath and reached over Dean's head, slipping his hand inside the backpack. So far so good.

Castiel leaned even closer, feeling about inside the backpack. He was positioned in such a way, his arm acted as a pillow for Dean, stilling most of his movements so the man wouldn't feel too much shifting under his head.

Nothing.

Castiel frowned, digging just a bit deeper. Perhaps it had fallen down to the bottom…

Castiel was so caught up in his search, he didn't notice Dean shift his position until it was too late. He had turned over slightly, his nose brushing up against Castiel's jaw in his sleep. A contented sigh left Dean's lips as he shrugged closer into Castiel's warmth, a smile playing across his lips.

The thief froze, eyes widening as he realized exactly what was happening. Dean had shifted in his sleep, cuddling up to the warmth he suddenly felt at his side. His breath caught in his chest as he forced himself not to jump. Maybe Dean would move again, and he'd be able to get his arm out of there. This was so very much a bad idea!

Castiel closed his eyes, willing Dean to move again, shift over even an inch. If he did, he'd be home free. The necklace wasn't in his grasp anyway.

Once again his hopes were dashed to pieces.

Dean smiled in his sleep, lifting his arm and caressing his fingertips down the side of Castiel's neck. He then gripped the back of his neck in a gentle hold, tugging him even closer. He sighed through his nose, burying his face in the crook of Castiel's neck.

Castiel's heart thundered in his chest, feeling the gentle nuzzle change to soft nips and kisses, those too-full lips trailing up his neck to his jaw. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the angry flush running across his cheeks. _This is so bad…_

Suddenly he tensed, feeling Dean's lips stop. Maybe he'd fallen back asleep.

Not to be. Through the roaring silence, his pulse echoing in his ears, Castiel made out one word, one gentle whisper that sent a thrill of something unrecognizable and entirely unpleasant through his person.

"Sammy…" Dean sighed, threading his fingers through Castiel's unruly locks. He tugged the thief down in his sleep, peppering his trembling lips with soft kisses. Dean pressed further into the kisses, prodding his lips to gain entry. Quiet little moans escaped the back of his throat, sending shocks of desire through his current partner.

Castiel blinked, unsure of what to do. If Dean thought he was dreaming about Sam… maybe he should play along? Just for a moment. He pressed into the kiss, opening his mouth just a smidge to allow shallow touches; just enough to get this over with.

It was then Castiel felt it. It wasn't the light drizzle he'd prompted from his partner, though. It was something so much more.

The thief pressed into the kiss with tender fervor. He grew dizzy with the contact alone, his breath stolen right from his chest. Reaching up, he gently gripped Dean's shoulder, pulling him closer until he was practically lying next to the sleeping man. Castiel trailed his fingers down Dean's broad chest, the kiss growing more heated until at long last, Dean pulled back.

Castiel's eyes locked on the serene face, his heart stopping when those beautiful green eyes cracked open slightly. But instead of initial and disgusted recognition, Dean smiled, settling back down in the seat and drifting deep into slumber.

Castiel stared at his form for a moment, eyes blown wide in desire and shock. He sat back hard on his haunches, trying to regain his breath as best as he could. What had he just done? He'd kissed a broken man, tricked him into a false sense of security and love. And he realized that gripping sensation in his chest wasn't just from his nerves. He felt it when he realized that Dean was kissing _Sam_ in his sleep… not him.

Castiel sat on the other bench, resting his head in his hands. He knew now what it was that thrummed through his veins like livewire.

No he didn't get that light drizzle sensation.

Castiel felt it like a thunderclap.

* * *

TBC...


	4. The Allegory of the Cheeses

Note: It was brought to my attention that in previous chapters I had been throwing some French stereotypical words into the story and seemed to have offended someone by this. I went back over the other chapters and this one and took them out, rewriting certain words to fix that. To the reader involved, I am So so sorry, it was not my intention to insult anyone with my writings! Hopefully this makes it better. *grovels* T.T

**Chapter 4**

The morning came all too soon after a fitful night. Castiel tossed and turned in his sleep, the memory of what he'd done gnawing away at his already guilt ridden conscience. For the second time in less than twelve hours, he startled awake, sitting bolt upright. He glanced to the other side of the compartment, expecting a snide comment about bad dreams. But all was silent.

Dean wasn't in the compartment.

Panicking, Castiel jumped to his feet, tucking his t-shirt back into his jeans before grabbing his jacket and bolting from the compartment. He didn't think they'd made any stops while he was asleep; in his disturbed slumber, he would have felt the train come to a stop and woken. No, no… maybe Dean was just in the dining car…

Bursting rudely through the door, Castiel came to a stop, glancing about the tables before him. He was met with dark glances, but his eyes strayed from the judging glares, landing finally on a familiar tousled blonde head. Castiel visibly deflated, walking over to the table and flopping into the adjoining seat with relief.

Dean looked up, grinning from ear to ear as he ate away at a massive plate of assorted cheeses and breads. "Hey! About time you woke up! Looks like you didn't get a good night's sleep, huh Cas?" he chortled, offering some of his plate to the drowsy conman.

Castiel waved off the offered food, instead lighting up a cigarette with a lazy flick of his wrist. "_Un café…_" he called to the server, waving him over to the table.

Dean hummed to himself, taking a sip of his coffee before grinning stupidly at the thief. "You know I feel incredibly refreshed today? I had this dream and it was just AMAZING."

Dean's words had the unfortunate bad sense of timing. Just as he spoke, Castiel took a tentative sip of his coffee, testing its flavor warily. The moment the words left his lips, Castiel inhaled sharply, choking on the coffee. He spluttered for a few moments before regaining some sort of control over himself. "Sorry_…_" he wheezed, waving his hand to let Dean continue. "What was this eh… dream about?"

Dean frowned, pausing for a moment. "You know I actually don't remember. But have you ever had one of those dreams that was just so delicious, you wake up feeling transformed? Shit, I haven't felt this great in a long time!"

Castiel stared at him for a prolonged moment, trying to think of a suitable response. "No… not any dream like that…" he deadpanned, taking another deep drag to calm himself.

Dean smirked, taking another hearty bite from his plate. "Did you know there are over four hundred fifty two official cheeses in this country? That's incredible! Over four hundred ways to classify what is basically a bacterial process?"

Castiel cocked an eyebrow at him, shooting Dean an exasperated look. "What? You'd prefer one cheese to put on one hamburger to eat at one restaurant, Mr. Monogamy?" he huffed, crossing his arms slightly.

Dean started back, blinking at him. "I'm saying I like the cheese. God, what side of the train did you wake up on?"

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. Of course Dean wouldn't get his implication…

Dean watched his friend for a moment, mulling over his choice of words. He didn't quite see how Castiel meant… oh. _Oh. _"Oh… I see. You're just not into cheese right now. I guess…" he glanced down at his plate. "I guess I just needed to sample a bit. You're right." He said before pushing the plate away. "You're right. One cheese only. I mean, after all that's what we're travelling to Cannes for, right?"

The silence spread for a moment, until Dean couldn't take it anymore. He sighed, putting his own coffee cup down and gazing out the side window. "It really is beautiful here… I can see why Sam wanted to go so badly…"

Castiel glanced over his shoulder, looking out the window as well at the passing fields. He shrugged, making a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

"What you, don't think this is beautiful?" Dean asked, frowning at him.

Castiel took another careful sip of his coffee before glancing over at Dean. "I was born here…"

"Really? But this is so charming and beautiful…"

Castiel smirked, standing up. "Ah, yes but it was too beautiful for me. I had to leave." Castiel stretched his back for a moment, glancing down at him. "Come, the train is approaching our layover in La Ravelle in Paulhauget. We'll lay over for a few hours then be on our way."

Dean nodded, standing up and following his… friend?... to the compartment. A layover wasn't such a bad idea, right? They could catch up on some sight-seeing and enjoy the view. He was entitled to have a little fun too, you know…

* * *

The two walked through the quaint streets in silence, listening to the bustle of every day commotion in the quiet town around them. "Dude…" Dean breathed, eyes scanning to take in as much as he could at one time. "How long since you've been back?"

"Eh… about six years."

"Six YEARS? What is your family a nightmare or something?" Dean sniped, jabbing Castiel in the ribs with his elbow.

Castiel was none too amused. "Look, I really don't want to talk about it, ok?" he grumbled, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He hunched his shoulders slightly in the universal sign that 'this conversation is over, thank you_.'_

Fortunately, Dean was not so deterred. "You know, a healthy person is someone who expresses what they're feeling inside."

Castiel stopped, glancing back at Dean with something akin to amusement on his face. "If that is the case, then you must be one of the healthiest people in the world." As he spoke, he spotted a drink café on one of the street corners and waved Dean over. "Come, we have a few hours before the next train picks us up."

After ordering their drinks, the two sat down to relax in the shade, drinking from glass bottles. The condensation rolled off their fingers, cooling the skin in the warm summer day. Dean licked a trail of water from his wrist, grinning over at his companion. "Why shut me out, Cas? C'mon you know you can tell me. I mean…" and here, Dean turned to stared intensely at his friend. "Do you know what happens to people who shut others out?"

Castiel leaned in as well, actually curious to hear the response. "They live quiet, peaceful lives?"

"No… they fester." Dean finished, giving Castiel a knowing look.

"… I'm festering?" Castiel sat back, blinking confusedly. He cocked his head to the side, contemplating the words. "How am I festering?"

Dean laughed, placing his bottle down on the ground. "Oh trust me, I've seen it happen. Pretty soon you're gonna be one of those hunch-backed lonely old men sitting in the back of a crowded cafe muttering to youself …" here, Dean scrunched his face up absurdly, hiking a shoulder up and pretending to drag on a cigarette as he spoke in a bad French accent, "'My ass is twitching. You people make my ass twitch'."

Castiel held his stern expression for about five seconds before he broke into laughter. He doubled up slightly, glancing up at Dean with the brightest grin he'd ever seen on his face. "The accent… it's terrible!" Castiel giggled, sitting up right to the mock-indignation on Dean's face.

Dean huffed, pretending to be insulted, but the moment of jollity was broken by the sounds of a frantic car horn. They both looked up to see a car pull up to the sidewalk café, the driver looking utterly pissed.

Castiel groaned, covering his eyes with a hand before standing up. He ignored the worried look on Dean's face, approaching the man as he got out of the car. The guy was freaking HUGE! He advanced on Castiel, muttering angrily in French as he shoved the smaller man back a few paces, prepping for a fight.

Castiel held his hands up, responding just as quickly, but a sudden and very violent fist to the face sent him sprawling to the ground.

Dean leapt to his feet, hurrying over to help his friend, but stopped when Castiel got up defiantly and turned back to the man. With a growl, he launched himself at the perpetrator, tackling him to the ground in a rough wrestling match on the cobblestone pavement.

Dean bounced from foot to foot, wanting to get into the fray to help his friend. He threw his bag to the ground in preparation, but stopped at what happened next.

Castiel got to his feet, spitting on the ground before rounding back on the assailant. Now he knew what to expect. The moment the larger man threw another punch, Castiel used his small size to his advantage, ducking just in time. The force of his hit sent the man staggering, and Castiel spun about, fist raised to the attack. Within seconds, his fist collided with his jaw, knocking the man out completely.

Castiel panted, backing up as other patrons came over to investigate the fight. He turned to Dean, giving him a sheepish look.

"Dude… you're bleeding!" Dean exclaimed, pulling a napkin from the table.

Castiel paused, reaching up to his mouth. True enough, a trickle of blood ran from his lip where it had been split from the man's fist, and another scrape across his nose ran freely as well. He shrugged, reaching to grab the napkin.

He didn't expect what happened next.

Dean swatted his hand away, dabbing gently at the cuts with a look of worry on his face. "Dude, are you alright? What the hell was that about?"

Castiel, momentarily stunned, shook himself back to the present and shrugged. "Eh… Dean this is my brother Raphael… Raphael, Dean." As soon as he rattled the brief greeting off, he grabbed Dean's wrist and dragged him away from the sight before Raphael could wake.

Dean didn't struggle, only following his friend from the fight scene. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the large man stir. "What the fuck…" he murmured, turning away finally and beating a very hasty retreat.

* * *

"So…" Dean sighed, gazing out at the sight of the sprawling vineyard before him. "This is your vineyard…"

"Eh… WAS my vineyard." Castiel corrected, leaning against the fence pole barring the yard from the road. He had since shed his jacket and over shirt, the thin t-shirt billowing in the gentle breeze. "this vineyard has been in my family for three generations. When my father retired, he passed it down to myself and my brother, Raphael. But now it is all Raphael's."

Dean frowned, looking over at him. "Why?"

Castiel smirked, bowing his head slightly. "Let me explain. To make a great wine, you have to be a bit of a gambler. As you know I am. Sometimes I would lose a lot of money. This time, I owed a great deal to Raphael. But he knew what he was doing."

"So how did you lose your half of the property."

Castiel smiled, having the decency to blush. "I lost all of it to him in one hand of poker. The bastard got me very drunk, and as you know I'm an asshole and never back down from a challenge."

Dean blinked, laughing under his breath. "You lost your birthright in one hand of poker? Dude, that's messed up."

Castile shrugged, pushing off of the fence pole with a sighed. He stretched his back, flashing Dean a smile. "Hence why I was so adamant about getting that little vine back home." He explained, stuffing his hands in his pockets again.

Dean sighed, noting the inflamed lip and shook his head. "Wow…" he said, reaching out to touch the swollen flesh. Just before he touched it, however, he withdrew his hand with a nervous chuckle, turning his attention to the road before them. "That explains why he hates you and you hate him."

"Ah, yes_…_ and I eh… slept with his boyfriend."

Dean knew he got more out of the conversation than that, but the latest admittance stunned him into silence. "Wait… you're gay?"

Castiel shrugged, ignoring the question. He wasn't about to get into this with Dean. Not after what happened on the train. Hell the guy didn't even know they'd kissed yet! He wasn't about to launch into some big conversation about his relationship issues while they were currently trying to work Sam and Castiel's growing crush back together.

He was saved the awkward conversation, however. At that moment, he heard a call from down the road and glanced up. There at the mouth of the vineyard stood none other than his father, the short, bearded man he'd looked up to all his life and had recently had a falling out with. "Papa…" he smirked, jogging down the road to greet his father.

Dean watched, half in fascination as what seemed like the whole Molyneux family came out to greet their prodigal son. He smiled, watching Castiel's hardened exterior soften, hugging nieces, sisters and his mother in turn.

Castiel smiled, turning back to wave Dean over, all smiles on his bright face. "Dean! Come meet my family!" he shouted jovially.

Dean smiled, jogging over to greet his friend's family. They seemed nice enough, and he might as well get a bit further into Castiel's head. He smiled, greeting them in the same manner as he'd seen before. For Frenchmen, they seemed pretty alright.

* * *

The family reunion was actually better than Castiel expected. He smiled, watching Dean get along perfectly with his family. As he sat under the shade of a tree, he leaned back, closing his eyes to the cool breeze. It really was a lovely day, and his lip was beginning to feel better already. He cracked an eye open, glancing over to the nearest bench.

There sat the backpack, all in its lonely and inviting glory. Castiel had almost forgotten about the necklace…

Well now was as good a time as any. He got up casually, moving over towards the bench. Good, no one was around. He sat down, sliding his hand inside the slightly opened zipper, feeling around the bag carefully.

Moments crept by and no sign of the necklace. He frowned, glancing down at the bag. Nothing. No necklace.

A sudden panic filled him once again, and he ripped the bag open, dumping the contents onto the ground in his rush. He sifted through the items, eyes widening in fear.

The necklace was truly gone. Lost somewhere in transition from the damn apartment back in Paris.

Castiel slumped in his seat, head hanging between his knees in defeat. "No… shit…" he groaned pathetically. He was totally and completely fucked.

Well… nothing he could do about it now. Unceremoniously scooping the items back into the bag, he got up, wandering over to the wine table. So many types to choose from…He grabbed a bottle and drank directly from it, slumping into the swing nearby. He ignored the nasty look his Gran shot him for drinking directly from the bottle, but he didn't care. Not like he wasn't going to finish this one off anyway.

He was so engrossed in his mourning he didn't notice Dean walk up until he was seated next to him on the tiny swing. Once the swing stilled again from the addition, the two sat in companionable silence until Dean had had enough.

"Getting a head start on that festering, Cas?" Dean quipped, turning to him. He received nothing more than a blank stare and a quiet grunt of recognition. "Guess so…"

Another silence filled the air, this time a bit more strained than before. Looks like it was up to Dean after all.

"Show me your room."

* * *

The door creaked open in a dusty swing, the room homey and warm despite not having been lived in for years. Dean smiled, taking in the sights. It was a nice room, the walls a stucco brown with wooden furniture and a plush tan carpet softening their foot falls. He stepped inside, glancing around at the room. "Nice room, Cas."

"Ah, thank you_." _Castiel smiled, following him inside. It almost seemed like he was seeing the room for the first time. He'd been away so long…

After a few minutes, Castiel was shaken from his revere, glancing over at Dean. _"Y_es?"

"What's in this box?" Dean asked, poking at a shallow lidded box by the window. It seemed to open easily, but he didn't really want to touch it if it was something important.

"Oh that? That was a project I did many years ago in school. I'll show you, but first you must take some wine, ok?"

Dean nodded, taking the offered glass. He sipped at the wine, rolling he taste around his taste buds for a moment. "It's a nice red wine." He answered after a long moment.

Castiel gave him a look, crossing his arms. "I think you can do better than that…"

Dean nodded, thinking for a moment. After awhile, he smirked, looking up at him. "A bold wine, with a hint of sophistication and lacking in pretension." He paused, thinking over his own answer before blushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry I think I'm doing this wrong. I was talking about myself."

Castiel raised a hand, a brilliant smile on his face. "No you're not wrong. Wine is like people; it picks up its personality from the environment around it, just like we do." With this, he cracked the box open, revealing several glass bottles inside. "Rosemary…" he said, letting Dean sniff the contents before returning it. "Current…" and so on he went, smiling at each contented face Dean made at the pleasant smells. "All of these ingredients are here in the ground. As I said, the vine draws in its personality from the environment. Now…" at this, Castiel leaned a hip against the table, challenging Dean with his eyes. "Test the wine again."

Dean nodded, taking another sip. He closed his eyes, letting the taste wash over him with a new understanding.

Castiel watched, enraptured at the sight. The way the dust motes flitted around the dusty room, the beams of light illuminating Dean almost took his breath away. He longed to reach out and touch that smooth face, feel the skin under his fingertips. His fingers itched for the contact and he fisted his hand to keep himself from following through.

He was saved the dilemma however as Dean hummed, concentrating. "Well... The current I can taste right away and then… I believe from the brown bottle; rosemary?"

Castiel smiled, nodding happily at the understanding. "You would make a fine wine tester…" he said, thankful the room was dark. Just from the heat alone, he could tell he was blushing heavily.

Dean smiled, his fingertips tracing over the glass bottles reverently. "Incredible…" He looked up to see Castiel putting the box back to rights. "And you made this box?"

"Ah, yes, i did…"

Dean nodded, placing the wineglass down on the table. He looked up at Castiel, taking a steadying breath. He leaned forward; tapping a kiss on each cheek in lieu of the normal greeting he'd see Castiel present to his family. "Thanks…" he murmured, striding from the room quickly.

Castiel remained rooted to the spot, eyes slightly wide. He looked up, hand hovering midair where he'd tried to reach out and take Dean's hand. So close…

Who was he kidding? Castiel huffed, closing the box and leaving the room again. Dean wanted Sam, and he was out $200,000. Hell, he'd go with him and help him get the love of his life back, even if it meant his end.

Not like there was anything else to lose…

* * *

The two sat in silence on a hill, overlooking the remains of a long abandoned vineyard not far from his brother's land. Castiel smiled, watching the play of the sun on the tall grass, windblown in the early evening sun.

Dean turned to say something to Castiel, when something caught his eye. He glanced over; surprised he hadn't seen this before. "Whose house is that, anyway?" he asked, pointing to the distant building.

Castiel shrugged, taking a quick drag from his cigarette before standing up. "No one's, it's abandoned. The guy who owned the land gave up a lot time ago." He reached down, grabbing a damp clod of dirt in his hand. "The land has been resting. It is fertile; it's good to grow in now." Smiling he turned back to Dean, perched on his haunches as he sat. "Someday, I am going to buy this land and make a great wine on this wreck of a vineyard." The confidence in his eyes sparked something in his friend, the two sharing a mutual agreement through their silence.

Dean thought for a moment, a smile crossing his face. "So you'd give up everything for this? Do anything to get it?"

Castiel nodded, looking distant.

"Get down on your knees and beg?"

At this, Castiel turned to Dean a recognized look in his eyes.

"That's what I thought." Dean said triumphantly, leaning closer to him. "What makes you so different from me?"

The thief nodded, wistful smile at the corners of his mouth. "Ok, I admit it. We're not so different." As he spoke, he watched Dean carefully, inching tentatively closer to him. "Dean… I…"

Dean looked up, eyes widening slightly at the sudden invasion of his personal space. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, he felt… relieved. "Yes?"

Castiel reached out, an unreadable expression on his face. Suddenly, Dean felt a pressure on his hand and he looked down. Castiel was shaking his hand in agreement. "I will help you get your Sam back. Just like I promised. Ok?" the words stung coming out but he would be damned if he broke his promise now… not after what he knew.

Dean swallowed, returning the gesture with a firm hand. "O-Ok then… it's a deal."

If the touch lingered for just a moment longer, neither of them said so. They were on an agreement.

Nothing more.

* * *

"Tell me something, Cas. How do you plan on BUYING the vineyard?" Dean inquired, shifting the weight of his backpack from one arm to the other. The hem of his Zepplin t-shirt was damp from the late afternoon heat, his grey sport coat slung over his shoulder.

Castiel shrugged, wiping the sweat from his brown. He, too had abandoned his jacket and overshirt, once again, wearing only the jeans and black t-shirt underneath. "I ahh… I had something to sell but it did not work out."

Dean frowned. "Didn't work out, what do you mean?"

Castiel blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… it does not matter. I lost it, ok?" He said this with an air of finality, hoping Dean would drop the subject.

He should have known better.

"You LOST it?" Dean exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Jeez, Cas if it was me, I would have had some sort of backup plan, not just some bullshit to fall back on."

Castiel frowned, crossing his arms. "Oh? Do enlighten me, Dean."

Dean smirked, rubbing the back of his own neck. "Oh I dunno something. Stocks. Bonds. Or maybe something a little bit LIKE ZEES?" As he crowed the last line, he pulled the collar of his t-shirt down.

Around his neck was the diamond necklace, pristine and shining in all its glory.

Castiel stared at the necklace, jaw set hard. He heard Dean laughing in the back ground, flaunting around in a bad rendition of femininity. "I dunno Cas, I think I'll keep it. It goes great with my eyes!" Dean giggled, faking a falsetto as he bounded onto the waiting train.

The thief groaned, forehead connecting with the nearest wall. "It would be so easy just to fall onto the track right now…" he murmured, heat and embarrassment flushing his pale skin.

He didn't notice Dean get back off the train. He did notice the tug on his wrist, dragging towards the door. "C'mon, Cas let's go! Cannes awaits!"

* * *

TBC…


	5. Love Lessons

**Chapter 5**

"Ok, lesson number one. To win Sam back, you must choose the field of battle very carefully…" Castiel instructed, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. The two walked casually down the boardwalk, taking in the sights of bustling Cannes as they headed for the Charlton.

Dean nodded as if he were listening to a very important lecture, shifting his sunglasses to the crown of his head to look more carefully at his instructor. "Ok, why is that?"

Castiel smirked, pointing to a French couple at an outdoor bistro with a careful finger. "You see, you must never let Sam know how much you want him. For anyone you are desiring, you must ever, never tell them how much you want them."

Dean paused, watching as the girl at the table pulled away from her boyfriend with a pout on her fair features. He frowned, watching the man plead with his girl, taking her hand into his. "What's that little pout? I saw Sam's… woman do that to him."

Castiel sighed, watching them carefully. "The pout is a French woman's secret weapon. It's provocative; puts the man in a state of constant anxiety and excitement." He explained, watching as the woman pulled further and further away until a gentle word from her lover drew her back to his side.

Dean laughed, the two resuming their walk. "Uh huh… and what is so great about that?"

"Because of its elusiveness, it draws the man in. She knows how to say yes when she means no, and no when she means yes. Do you understand?"

"No."

Castiel paused. Glancing back, he spied Dean who had stopped to look at a small souvenir table, looking over the wares carefully. "You don't?" he quipped, honestly confused by this admittance.

Dean smirked over his shoulder at him, the laughter bright on his features. "Aha, gotcha. Yes, I understand."

Castiel rolled his eyes, unable to hide the amusement in them. "It only works on women, you know."

"Oh fine, be a sexist why don't you?" Dean turned, hiding something in his hand.

"What is that?" the thief wondered, walking over curiously.

Dean giggled to himself, holding the item out. In his hand was a small replica of the Eiffel Tower. "I found it. It made me think of you." As he spoke, he pressed a button on the side. Immediately, the little toy wilted over on its side, eliciting another sly giggle from the man.

Castiel stared at the toy, his face deadpanning in realization. "Give me that…" he murmured, snatching it from Dean with a hearty blush on his cheeks.

"Aw come on, Cas. Don't be such a prude." Dean snickered, watching Cas place the toy back down on the table. With a shrug, he clapped a hand on the thief's shoulder. "Alright, lessons continued."

Castiel, feeling grateful for the change of subject nodded and followed Dean on their way. "Ok, lesson number two. When Sam sees you, he will expect a big scene to happen. Don't give him the satisfaction. Act aloof to the whole situation. This will leave him intrigued…"

As they walked, they eventually found the hotel and immediately made a beeline for the reception desk. Dean took the backpack from Castiel, looking around the lobby. "I'm gonna go check the place out." He said, smiling to his friend.

Castiel nodded, wallet in hand. "I'll go pay for the room." The thief murmured, turning to the desk. He smiled at the concierge, signing the check quickly.

"_Ah, Monsieur Raphael Molyneux. A room for two? How will you be paying for this?"_

"_Put it on my tab…" _As he spoke, Castiel pulled his brother's credit card from his wallet, placing it down on the counter with a smile. "_In full."_

Oblivious to the pilfered credit card exchange, Dean wandered down the hall, watching the people come and go. He heard the distinct clatter of plates and turned to see a dining area just off to his left. He took a moment to stuff his sport coat into the backpack, along with his Zepplin t-shirt, leaving him in the white undershirt, significantly cooler than he had felt previously. He stretched stiff shoulders before setting his bag down by the doorway with a sigh.

Peeking inside, he glanced about the people enjoying their lunch. The food did smell pretty good and he was getting a bit hungry from the train ride earlier… perhaps they could grab a bite to eat before heading out for the afternoon.

As he turned to leave, however, a shaggy head of brown hair caught his eye and he froze. Blinking, he looked again, his stomach dropping with icy cold dread. There, just a few tables away, sat Sam with his fiancée. Across from them sat an older couple, presumably the girl's parents. He watched in almost horror as Sam speared a carrot from his plate, teasingly feeding the girl. The looks on her parents' faces was sickeningly adoring, watching their future son in law dote over their beloved daughter with such care.

Dean wanted to gag at the sight. He glanced about the hall before slipping through the doorway. He silently snuck up behind a pillar, watching the quartet at their table. As he watched, he peeked out from between a nude statue's arms, eyes glued to his ex-boyfriend's face.

He frowned, watching the utmost happiness melt into confusion. Had he seen him slip past the pillars? Would he come looking? Dean held his breath, waiting for the moment when his cover would be blown. He remembered Castiel's words, though, taking a moment to calm himself. 'No scenes… no drama…' played over in his mind like a mantra until the anxiety passed.

Fortunately enough, Sam remained seated, the look of confusion only a distant shadow on his features. He smiled reassuringly to his fiancée, hiding his furtive glances about the dining hall as they continued their feast.

With a sigh, Dean stood up. He calmed his thrumming heart, eyes glued to the face he'd longed to see this whole bloody trip before taking a step back to retreat. He'd almost blown it, that was for sure… but now he at least knew what he was up against. He vowed to take his battle elsewhere after a moment to recollect.

He didn't see the cart behind him.

In his intended escape, Dean tripped up on the low slung dessert cart, flipping over the thing before sending himself and dozens of pastries to the floor with a loud crash. The landing was less than graceful, and rather squishy; he'd managed to squash dozens of cream puffs, and chocolate tart cakes under his weight, his face smashed into the creamy icing of a strawberry torte. He froze, listening to the suddenly deafening silence around him. He didn't want to get up. Don't look at them. Don't look at them. Don't look…

The anguished cries of the baker filled the air, a cacophony of a disturbance filling the air. Dean struggled to his hands and knees, daring not to look over his shoulder as he scrambled to flee the dining room. He boots squelched and squeaked in the cream smeared across the floor, slipping more than once in his mad escape.

All eyes landed on the humiliated man, watching in disdain as this _foreigner _ruined their perfectly good luncheon with his antics, destroying the desserts and making a mess all over the place. Two women nearby took notice of the American man at the nearest table, his eyes glued to the spot where the troublemaker had been only moments before.

By some miracle, Sam hadn't seen who lay on the floor in a puddle of filling, only having heard the crash and the frantic attempt to get away. By the time he got to the offending spot, the perpetrator was long gone, a trail of goop leading him from the room. With a determined frown, he followed the trail, leaving his pleading lover behind.

Outside the dining hall, Castiel stood alone, looking about the near empty lobby with confusion. Where in the span of five minutes had Dean disappeared to? He turned towards the nearest hall, hearing shouting, and a loud crash. He blinked, frozen in place. By the door sat the backpack, but Dean was nowhere. He grew tense, walking over to grab the bag from the doorframe. "Dean!" he called, looking around the hall.

He didn't see Dean right away, but from a few paces away, he heard hurried squeaking. He glanced over his shoulder, confused by the strange sound. The moment he did, however, he wished he hadn't.

Crawling across the floor with a panicked look on his face and COVERED in chocolate was Dean. Castiel blinked, his face dropping in bewilderment as he watched his friend suddenly lunge to his feet, sprinting from the hall with a slip and a slide.

Castiel blinked, entertaining a ridiculous thought for a moment, picturing Dean galloping from the room with a cry of "RETREAT!" on his lips. He shook the rather humorous thought from his head though, unsure of what to do with his half-crazed friend. But just as he backed up to turn away, he bumped into someone just behind him. Castiel turned with an apology on his lips that died the moment he saw who it was.

"_Perdon…"_ he murmured, backing up slightly. Holy shit, this was NOT what Castiel had been expecting! Castiel felt dwarfed compared to Sam, who stood a few good inches higher than his own brother, and began to realize exactly how Dean had felt such an attraction to him. There went any competition out the window…

Just before Sam could respond, a woman with long brown hair pulled into a bun stalked up behind Sam and grabbed his elbow. She gave the confused man a sweet smile, her anger simmering under her painted façade. "Come back to the table, Sam… my parents are worried…" she murmured, her accent floating softly through the air.

Castiel stood back, pretending to be enraptured by the brochure table and listened to the two speak. The man's voice was surprisingly young sounding, enticing in a boyish nature. He waited patiently, only turned when he was sure they were long gone, glancing over his shoulder with apprehension. Of course… it had to be the tall, handsome one…

* * *

"Dean, it's like you don't listen to a word I tell you." Castiel fumed, fumbling to try and clean some of the chocolate off of Dean's boots. He heard the shower cut out and the curtain ripped open, before looking up to see Dean poke his head out. "How can I help you win back this ridiculous man if you keep acting like a clown?"

Dean scoffed, wrapping a towel around his waist and striding from the bathroom. "It was an accident, ok? I didn't expect to see him right then!" Jamming his feet into the pajama bottoms he'd managed to buy at the hotel shop, he turned on Cas, his face practically glowing with frustration. "Did you see him? Sucking up to her parents like that? Makes me sick!" he spat, flopping onto the bed finally.

Cas sighed, flopping down into the nearest chair to stare at his friend. Secretly, he didn't want to admit that maybe Dean's mistake was for the better. He shook the thought from his mind, remembering the promise he'd made Dean.

"And did you see her?" Dean suddenly quipped, his hand shooting up accusingly into the air. "Cutting her food into the little bite sized pieces?"

Castiel snorted, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, I saw her, she was… eh…" he frowned, realizing the dilemma finally. Not that he really cared, but… yes. She was gorgeous.

Dean sat up ominously, glaring at Castiel. "She was what? Tell me, Cas she was what?" Dean watched the thief carefully, gauging his reaction. As the realization hit, a sharp pain shot through him and he looked away, hurt and embarrassed. "Oh I see… I totally fucking get it." he stood up, crossing in front of the thief. "I'm not sexy or appealing because I got a dick swinging between my legs."

Cas startled, blinking up at him. "No I did not say that!" He got to his feet, following Dean into the kitchenette.

"I'm not appealing because I'm not some pouty little girl who says yes when she means no, or no when she means yes. No, you're totally right, Cas. That's not me. Ok, see here?" Dean whipped around, bearing down on the smaller man. "Get this clue Cas; Happy equals smile! Sad equals frown! Unlike what YOU want, I'm not some dainty little bitch; some sexy, mysterious…"

Castiel's hand shot out, covering Dean's mouth with too warm fingers. "That's not what I want, Dean!"

"Well what do YOU WANT?" Dean yelled back, wrenching away from him to lean shakily against the counter.

"I WANT YOU!... Eh… I want you…" Castiel faltered, his fervor gone within the words. He stopped, sudden warmth of emotions boiling through him to a dull and cold conclusion. He knew what he was doing… and he knew exactly what losing battle he was fighting.

Dean turned back to him, eyes shining with unshed tears. "You want me…" he prompted, willing to get this fucking conversation over with so he could go to bed.

Castiel's heart softened, finding himself reaching for the distraught man before him. He turned him gently, reaching up with a soft hand to wipe the tears away. "I want you… to make Sam suffer. To tempt him."

Dean listened, entranced by the soft touch that graced his lightly freckled cheek. His eyes drifted shut, nodding to the words that floated over him.

Castiel smiled sadly, continuing with the gentle ministrations. "I want you to make him feel that even though you are right there… in front of him; he can't have you. You are perpetually out of his reach, a dying dream. That is how you will win his heart."

Castiel wasn't sure who he was referring to more: Sam… or himself.

Dean watched, transfixed. He blinked when the warmth of Castiel's palm left his face, shuddering from the loss. He turned to see Castiel step out onto the balcony, leaning against the railing to watch the city below.

Dean watched him for a moment, before turning away from the sight. It was all too surreal. With some difficulty, he found himself wandering to the bed, crawling under the blankets to try and forget the whole rotten day.

Out on the balcony, Castiel watched the horizon with sorrow, the cigarette sitting almost forgotten between his lips. He finished the smoldering paper, flicking it away before returning to the room. With a quick flick of the wrist, he shut the lights off before pulling his t-shirt off and kicking his boots under the couch. Now, almost completely engulfed in the dark, Castiel turned to the bed, eyeing the empty side carefully. He glanced to the couch and paused, making a decision in his mind.

Castiel turned to the bed, striding across the floor silently. His eyes met Dean's for a long moment, the two waiting in bated breath. Castiel reached out, tugging the blankets down partway.

Dean watched, his breath caught in his throat. He saw those long fingers reach for the blankets, and he felt warmth spread through him for the briefest of moments. He watched as Castiel reached out, his hand grazing the backboard before those same long fingers grabbed the pillow, lifting it away from the bed. He watched as Castiel turned back to the couch, lying across the length in only his jeans, leaving the other side of Dean's bed feeling suddenly that much colder.

Then he stopped watching. His eyes drifted to the ceiling of the hotel room, a long sigh escaping him. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing sleep to come dancing at the corners of his eyes. It never did.

After a few minutes, he heard a shift from the couch, the cool Cannes air too still between them and amplifying the night sounds otherwise previously ignored. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and rolled over onto his side. Propping his head up, he watched the thief try to make himself comfortable on the couch, sleep obviously eluding him as well. "Cas?"

Castiel froze, glancing up at Dean warily. "Yes?"

"Do you, uhmm…"

"… yes?"

Dean sighed, smoothing the blanket out absentmindedly before him. "Do you think I still have a chance with Sam after what happened today downstairs?"

Any sort of hope the thief might have felt deflated with those words. He looked away, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes with a soft puff of air. "Yes… of course." He murmured, hopefully reassuring Dean with his words. "And tomorrow we will use our mistake to our advantage…

* * *

Dean leaned against the railing, watching the beach patrons with care. He ran Castiel's words over in his mind again and again, making sure to take each one to heart. After carefully stilling his palpitating heart, he schooled his nerves, shooting a look over his shoulder. This was it, he told himself, making his way across the beach to the two chairs he'd been staring at the whole time.

He threw a smile across his face, watching as the distance between his intended victims and he close quickly. He almost had to stifle a laugh as he reached out, clapping his hands heavily on Sam's shoulders with a hearty, "HEY SAMMY!"

Sam yelped, whipping around in his seat. His eyes widened comically at the sight of his ex standing over him. "Dean?"

"Hey there, Sammy!" Dean laughed, dropping down in the nearest seat with a huge smile. "Hope it's alright if I join you guys." He flashed that grin between the two of them, finally setting on the woman. "So, you must be…"

"Ruby." She replied, a smile on her painted lips.

Dean gave her an all-too bright smile, winking at Sam. "Ruby, eh? A pleasure, really."

Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably, looking between the two. "Look, Dean I-"

Dean waved off his words, flashing that smile on him. "No, honestly Sammy I didn't come here for a fight. I just came to give my congratulations, and perhaps do a little sightseeing along the way. And while I'm here we can finalize the separation. Wouldn't want that hanging over your head right before the wedding, no?"

Sam stared, shocked into complete silence.

"What?" Dean said around a mouthful of carrot stick. He plucked another from the basket, nibbling it almost daintily.

"N-nothing you just seem… really different, that's all."

Dean laughed, shrugging. "Well let me tell you, having an experience like I did changes a person. After you called, I decided to get on a plane and fly here to get you back. In my mind there was no way some pouty little- and this was before I knew you personally- bitch wanted to steal herself a husband. So I got on that plane, flew over the big blue ocean… and then the most amazing thing happened." He paused for dramatic effect. "Everything went completely and utterly wrong."

Sam frowned, listening to his ex talk so comfortably about his adventures in France, his eyes never leaving Dean's glowing face. He was so entranced in the speech, he didn't notice the topic change, until a strange word crossed his mind, twisting something inside him. "What?"

Dean looked over at him. "I said then I took up with Castiel. Or, Cas as he likes to be called." Dean smiled, watching with satisfaction as an all too familiar flash of jealousy flitted through those hazel eyes. Now would be the perfect time…

Dean looked up, seemingly to notice something for the first time. "Oh! There he is! CAS!" he called, waving the thief over.

Castiel looked up, having been leaning against the railing. He smiled, pushing his hair out of his face with a casual hand as he sauntered over.

Dean smiled, winking at Cas as he made his way through the sand. "I want you to meet some great people! cas, this is Ruby, and this…"he said, watching the two shake hands. "… is Sammy."

Castiel paused, eyes widening with 'realization'. "Sweetie-pie?" he exclaimed, his broken English forming the word awkwardly in his mouth. At Dean's affirmative, Castiel suddenly burst into happy chatter, his French completely by-passing the confused Sam, while simultaneously drawing Ruby's attention to him with thinly veiled interest.

Sam blinked, looking at Dean helplessly. "What did he just say?"

"I dunno…" Dean laughed, winking at Castiel. "He doesn't speak much English but somehow we manage just fine. I think it's that transitional thing to help me get over us."

Sam only stared, his face deadpanned. "What does he do?" he asked, not bothering to hide his bother to the whole situation.

Dean frowned, pondering for a moment. "What you mean besides what we do together?" he pondered for another moment, letting Sam stew for a bit. "I don't think he does anything at all…"

The look on Sam's face made all of Dean's trouble so worth it.

* * *

"OH MY GOD, THAT WAS SO GREAT!" Dean cheered, practically throwing himself onto Castiel. He wrapped his friend into a hug, squeezing the breath right out of the man before him.

Castiel gasped, trying to free his squashed arms from the vice like grip around him. "You were fantastic… really." He wheezed, somehow managing to dislodge the happy man from his person. He smiled at the elated Dean, extending a hand to him. "Now tonight, your real test begins. You will have dinner with Sam, pretending to work out the details of your breakup. I promise you, if you do well you will be king of the castle by morning."

Dean nodded, too happy to really notice anything amiss. "Ok, got it!" he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Castiel returned the smile, patting him on the shoulder. "We should celebrate. Some wine perhaps?" he'd spied a wine cart not too far off, and nodded. "This will do. I'll be right back, don't move." He added, slipping through the crowd.

Dean nodded, plopping down in the bench nearby to wait for Castiel to return. If the rustling of papers alerted him, he didn't show it.

"A beautiful day to be in Cannes, isn't it Dean?" a voice rumbled, startling Dean from his respite. He turned to gaze at the man sitting next to him, taking in a casual head of light brown hair, hazel eyes sharp in the afternoon light.

"I'm sorry do I know you?"

"Not personally, but we do have a mutual acquaintance. Castiel Molyneux." As he spoke, the man pulled out a badge, flashing it to Dean. The name read clear as day: "Gabriel Lambert."

Dean looked up at him, eyebrow cocked in worry. "What happened?"

Gabriel sighed, shifting closer to Dean. "It has something to do with a very valuable necklace. One that is in Castiel's position."

Dean shifted uncomfortably, uttering a nervous laugh. "Yeah, about that. Should I slap him on the wrist? Will there be a large fee for that?" He tried to make light of the situation, but backed off if the look on the _Gendarme's_ face was anything to go by. "… why not just arrest him?" he breathed, fearing the answer.

Gabriel shook his head, a small smile quirking the corners of his mouth. "I'm old fashioned. And Castiel is my friend. I owe him a debt much larger than what can be absolved by money. What I ask you to do is speak to him; ask him to return the necklace anonymously, and we'll forget the whole thing."

Dean shook his head, looking perturbed by the _Gendarme's _words. "He'll never agree to it…"

"He must. Or else I will be forced to arrest him, and the crimes stacked on his head are much larger than one sentence can take care of." Gabriel took note of the distressed flare in Dean's eyes. He softened, handing him a card. "Call me tomorrow, with your decision and his. Try to enjoy this beautiful day, Dean. You'll need it."

Dean watched the officer leave the bench, suddenly feeling much more alone than he had five minutes ago. He looked up to see Castiel make his way back over, and offered a weak smile. The high he'd been feeling was indefinitely destroyed.

He didn't know how he was going to break this to Castiel… but he couldn't see him be dragged off to prison either. He'd have to figure something out.

He just had to.


	6. Let's Just Dance

**Chapter 6**

Dean stood alone in the bathroom of their hotel room, back pressed against the counter. He held the business card between his trembling fingers, memorizing the phone number scrawled across the top. With resignation, he turned to face the mirror, eyes boring into his reflection heavily. His gaze wandered his appearance, taking in the smart tuxedo he now wore. Vaguely his mind drifted. What was Castiel wearing, he wondered, eyes glazing over with the thought. What was Castiel planning for that night…

"You want something to drink?" Dean startled at Castiel's voice, jolting back to his senses. He scrambled to pick up the card he dropped, stuffing it into his pocket nervously.

"Y-yeah, I'll be out in a second." He replied, taking a moment to still his thrumming heart. Running his hands over the front of his tux, he smoothed the wrinkles away and straightened his tie. Running a hand over his jaw, he checked for last minute stubble before finally deeming himself ready. "Ok, Winchester. You can do this…"

Stepping out of the bathroom, he glanced around the room, looking for his scruffy thief companion. But when his eyes landed on the sight of his friend, he quite literally did a double-take, his jaw dropping open in shock.

"C-Cas?" Dean blinked, taking in his sight. Castiel stood next to the personal bar wearing a dashing white tuxedo, the jacket thrown over his arm. His once unruly long hair was tamed in a neat wave down the back of his neck and all traces of stubble were gone from his jaw. He looked… well for lack of a better word, hot. "Damn, Cas you clean up pretty well."

Castiel looked up at the sound of his name and froze. His eyes quite nearly bugged out from his head as his gaze wandered over Dean's form. "Well… I could say the same for you." He replied, his voice breaking.

The two stood in uncomfortable silence, Dean shifting from one foot to the other. After a few moments he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with a tentative hand. "Y'know, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid…"

Castiel blushed dark red, averting his eyes. He mentally kicked himself in the teeth. '_Focus, you idiot…'_ he thought to himself, taking a heavy drink to occupy his hands. Perhaps it wasn't too late to salvage the moment. Smirking to himself, he poured another glass of whiskey, handing it to Dean. "So… the tuxedo? It was expensive?"

Dean nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah it was pretty pricey, but… I figured what the hell…"

Cas nodded. "You charged it to the room I suppose…" at his affirmative, Castiel chuckled. "Good. Very good…" As he spoke, he reached out to brush the shoulder straight, muttering under his breath, "I only wish my brother could see you…"

Dean frowned at the odd statement, but said nothing. Whatever, it was Cas' business, not his. He placed the tumbler down on the counter, changing the subject. "So… did you ever think about what you were going to do with the necklace?" He was pretty sure this was off topic but…

God when did it get so hot in the room? Dean entertained the notion of cracking the bay window, but Castiel's hum of contemplation stopped him.

"I had assumed I would be selling it. In fact, I could do it tomorrow. There is a jeweler's shop near the boardwalk. _Cartier _I believe it is called. In the morning, I will sell the necklace and that will be that. We all will have gotten what we've been fighting for." '_Almost…'_

Dean paused, blinking in the dim light. Well that came easier than he thought… "What if I sold the necklace? After all, I'm the exotic American. I think they'd be willing to appease me."

Castiel pondered the notion for a moment, swilling the ice around his glass. "Hmm… I suppose it could work. And eh… you'd be willing to do that? Won't you be…" he swallowed, willing the words to come out, "Won't you be with Sam at that time?"

Dean shrugged, tugging at the collar of his suit. Suddenly, he really REALLY wanted to change the subject again. "Uh.. y-yeah! So it's settled. I'll sell the necklace tomorrow and we'll… we'll all be squared away. Think of it as my gift to you for helping me out…"

Cas waved his hand in dismissal, grinning at his companion. "Don't mention it." At this, he clapped his hands together, leaning away from the counter. "Alright then! We practice!" he strode over to the stereo in the corner, pressing play on the CD. He listened to the disk whirr to life within the player, and smiled.

If this was his last chance – his only chance- to be even remotely intimate with the man he'd inadvertently fallen for, well then it was nobody's business.

Dean shifted, looking uncomfortable again. "I-I don't think that's such a good idea…" he said without conviction.

Castiel smirked, tugging on his elbow. "Come now, what is this? You want to perfect your mode of attack, no? C'mon… I'll be Sam." With this, Cas stepped back, standing in the middle of the floor. He extended a hand to Dean, smiling awkwardly at his companion. "Come, it won't bite."

Dean glanced at his outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it in his own. "O-Ok… I'll be Dean…" With this, he stepped into Castiel's space, his other hand hovering uneasily between Castiel's waist and shoulder. "Uh… am I the girl or are you?"

Castiel barked a laugh, the sound surprisingly musical in the night. "If I were really Sam, what would you do?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, not bothering to hide the blush. "Honestly?" He glanced at their joined hands before releasing Castiel's. "If it were me and Sam, we'd be like this…" and with that, he wrapped his arms loosely around Castiel's waist, pulling him in until their chests touched. He then maneuvered the thief's hands to mirror his own, the two nearly joined at the hip. "And well… that's how."

Castiel glanced down to where their chests touched, feeling a heat begin to bloom in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed, the dry roll of his throat sounding too loud in his ears. He risked a smirk up to his friend, hoping he wasn't as transparent as he felt. "well then… shall we?"

Dean nodded mutely, feeling their bodies begin to sway in time to the slow beat of the music. His hands drifted up from the small of the thief's back to grip gently at his shoulder blades, pulling him in closer. He'd never felt so comfortable in all his life… shouldn't this have just been Sam's? He frowned, feeling wave of confusion wash over him.

"So… we are dancing." Castiel murmured, his hands running soothing circles into the dip of Dean's back. "I will be thinking to myself, what an idiot I was to let you go. How I'm a stupid, mindless, selfish man…"

"Ok, ok I get it…" Dean quipped, suddenly feeling very exposed in Castiel's indirect self-slander. He pressed his hand firmly into Castiel's shoulder, shooting him an unreadable look. "Just… keep going."

Castiel nodded, pressing back into the embrace. "Very well… so we are dancing. It feels… so right. Just as the moment should be. How it should have been all along. Now… what do you say to me?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply and found no words. He tried again, his mind drawing a blank. "… I-I… I don't know. I don't know anymore…" he whispered, pressing his cheek into Castiel's shoulder. "I don't know when to stop pretending…" Dean sighed, nuzzling into the warmth of his companion's shoulder. "I don't know when to tell him…"

"… that you love only him?" Castiel prompted. He heard the tail end of Dean's statement caught in the back of his throat, barely there. He huffed inaudibly, eyes boring sharply into the opposite wall. "You will know. You will tell him and then… that will be that. Your victory will be complete."

The two fell silent, letting the music wash over them as they swayed as one unit, together on the impromptu dance floor. After a beat, the thief spoke up again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You know what I am going to do for you, to ensure your victory this night?" He felt, more than saw, Dean shake his head, his cheek still pressed to his shoulder. Castiel blinked, steeling himself. "Ruby."

Dean froze, his hand gripping Castiel's shoulder a bit more firmly. "… Ruby."

Castiel nodded, rubbing Dean's back soothingly. "Indeed. She will be feeling a little sad… a little angry. Vulnerable, even. I will go to her and… comfort her."

Dean closed his eyes before lifting his head from Castiel's shoulder. "Well… I wouldn't want you to do anything too unpleasant…" he murmured, eyes boring into soft blue. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment before Castiel spoke up.

"I do it for you. After all, my little problem will not be such a problem tonight. I'm feeling a bit like you… relaxed. Ready to take on the world." He smiled, hoping that with the lack of distance between them, Dean wouldn't see the lie in his eyes. He reached out with his left hand, joining their hands and resting them by their shoulders. "I will find her." He whispered their cheeks barely an inch apart. "I will find her and go to her and… talk to her. Then…"

"Sh! Sh!" Dean's hand gripped Castiel's back even more firmly, fingertips pressing into his skin. "… just… let's just dance." He leaned back, eyes pleading with the thief.

Without a word, Castiel nodded, pulling him back to meet his chest. The two danced slowly into the night, until the CD wound down to silence.

In honesty, they didn't even know it stopped, dancing in the silence that was their bond.

* * *

"Ok, so the lamp we got in Chicago is yours. I'll keep the dining set." Dean checked off the list in front of him, slapping a merry grin on his face. He looked up, watching Sam squirm in the seat opposite of him. "What should we do about the loveseat? Hm? You know what I was thinking we could do is just taking a buzzsaw to it. Right down the middle, BZZ!"

Sam shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look can we not talk about this?" he asked, his face pulling into a pleading gaze. Normally this worked on Dean, but now…

Dean shrugged. "Hey this is business Sammy. The business of breaking up. Now about the tapes… i think I'll just keep the tapes…"

"But… isn't this just so depressing? Don't you…"

Dean laughed, looking up at him. "Hey if you can't handle this I can just have a yardsale and send you half the cash."

Sam huffed a laugh, looking shamed and embarrassed. "You must hate me… I mean…" he trailed off, his eyes lowered in his shame. After a moment he looked up, gauging Dean's words.

Dean shrugged. "Well I did hate you. Oh trust me I did, but uh… now… Huh. Doesn't matter." He smiled at him, tapping the pen on the table. After a moment, he leaned forward."Why do you say that?"

Sam sighed, running his hands through his hair for a moment. "I just… I feel so horribly guilty about all of this. I mean… I am so sorry."

Dean sighed, putting the pen down. "Listen, Sam don't feel guilty, alright? Don't feel guilty because then I'll start feeling guilty that I made you…" he trailed off, a smirk growing at the corners of his mouth. "You know what? Screw that. That was the old me. Feel guilty. Swim in it, 'til your fingers get all pruney."

Sam laughed, a tuneless puff of air that didn't quite brighten his eyes. "Dean… you're amazing." The two sat in companionable silence, eyes locked over the tableware. It was Dean who averted his eyes first, glancing down at the checklist in front of him.

But Sam was having none of that. He reached over the table top, taking Dean's hand in his. "Dean…"

He looked up at his name, eyes shining in the candlelight. "Yeah, Sam?"

Sam smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Would you dance with me? One last time?"

In the beginning, Dean thought he would have jumped at the opportunity. But somehow, it didn't surprising him that he had to think about it for a minute.

It was just to keep the illusion up.

"… ok, Sam…"

* * *

"_You're right about his eyes… sometimes I want to smack the look right from his face."_ Ruby practically purred into her wineglass, raising an eyebrow to her current partner. She smiled, letting a hand trail up Castiel's thigh to rest at the hip.

Castiel smiled, taking her hand in his. "_You don't deserve him at all… You're so much better than that."_

"_No, he' wonderful… tender, and loving. Not like a Frenchman."_

Castiel nodded, taking her by the wrist. He pulled her from the barstool, a suggestive gleam in his eyes. "_I completely understand…"_

Ruby sighed, wrapping her arm around Castiel's waist. _"How could he do this to me? After all, if I were but a few years younger, this would have never happened. He would be with me in my bed right now… and he would be left out in the cold." _She looked up at Castiel, raising an eyebrow in contemplation. "_… you do understand, no?"_

"_Yes, I can imagine." _ He leaned over, letting his lips brush against her ear.

"_Castiel… look at me. And tell me what you see…"_ Ruby leaned up, pressing her too-cold hand to his cheek. She turned his face to meet her eyes, crimson painted lips hovering before his.

Castiel swallowed, eyes darting down to gaze at her ruby mouth, licking his own nervously. He wracked his brain for a suitable answer, but came up blank. With her waiting, literally hovering before him, Castiel made a snap decision. He did the only thing he could do at the time.

He leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep. He felt her open her lips willingly to him, inviting him in with her too-sweet perfume and soft, moist mouth. He wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling back long enough to gaze into her eyes.

"_Ruby… Show me your room."_

_

* * *

_

Out on the dance floor, Dean swayed in beat to the soft music, letting Sam's arms wrap oh so gently around him. He pressed his forehead to Sam's shoulder, exhaling loudly.

"You know you're so different…" Sam murmured, nuzzling the top of his head affectionately. "It's like… It's like someone turned a light on inside you…" he paused for a beat, pulling back to gaze longingly at his lost lover. "Why wasn't it me?"

Dean looked up, blinking at the odd choice of words. He stared into Sam's eyes, feeling his heart thump just that much more, blood heavy in his ears. He pressed into Sam's warmth, giving his hand a light squeeze. "Sam…"

Whatever Dean meant to say was cut off by a pair of warm lips closing around his own. Sam pressed into the kiss with slow determination, eyes closed in the low lighting. He ran his fingertips down the center of Dean's back, eliciting a small moan from his partner.

Dean gasped slightly, opening up just that much further, allowing Sam to probe deeper. After a moment, he pulled back, gazing into those hazel eyes he'd almost forgotten about. "Sam…"

He didn't finish. Sam pressed a finger to his lips, tugging on his waist. "Come on… let's get out of here."

Nodding dumbly, Dean followed, feeling the warmth of Sam's hand around his. He smiled, knowing a job well done when he saw it.

"Dean… Show me your room."

* * *

Castiel panted heavily, feeling long fingernails press firmly into his chest. He flopped back against the bed, divested of his shirt and his belt. The pants were still mostly intact, the belt and fly open, but he knew too soon they would be gone.

In the dark, Ruby straddled his waist, kissing him fiercely. She threaded her fingers into his slicked back tresses, pulling him up into the kiss.

Castiel froze for a moment, his hands hovering over her back. He felt the lace of her bra under his fingertips, but for the life of him, could not undo the clasping holding it in place.

"_Is something wrong?" _she gasped, sitting up to gaze into his eyes.

Castiel didn't meet her gaze. Instead, his eyes roamed over her body, taking in the perfect mounds of her breasts, the curve of her waist, and the barely-there panties. He shivered, looking up at her. _"No. In fact… everything is perfectly fine…" _without another word, he pulled her back down, kissing her hard and deep, all teeth and heavy breathing.

She reached down to remove the remainder of his pants, tugging at the belt. "_Castiel... oh please…" _she whined, wishing to quicken the pace of their activities. She fisted his hair more roughly, yanking him up in a gnashing of teeth.

Castiel groaned, his own fingertips digging into her waist. His eyes drifted shut, and he pressed up into the warmth, seeing out the curve of biceps, warm skin, and taut muscle. He reached up, clasping at his left shoulder, feeling the little scar there that he'd only seen when he'd stepped out of the shower…

The kiss turned tender and he sighed, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Oh Dean…" he moaned, seeking out the tender recesses of the mouth on his.

The world came crashing to a halt. He froze, eyes flying open as he realized exactly what he'd said. Oh, shit…

Ruby froze as well, sitting up to glare down at him. _"What… what did you say?"_ She pulled off of him, sitting back on her haunches as she eyed him angrily.

Castiel didn't move. He stared up at the ceiling, the weight of his realization crashing down around him. "I said… I said Dean…"

The air hung thick between them, silence stretching on into the night. With new determination, Castiel sat up, closing the buckle of his belt. "_Ruby… I am sorry…"_

"_Don't apologize."_ She snapped, pulling her slip back on. "_Just… just go."_

Silence yet again prevailed. After a moment, he stood, pulling his shirt on haphazardly. Without saying a word, he strode from the room, leaving Ruby very much alone that night.

It didn't matter now. He'd kept his end of the bargain.

He only prayed Dean was more successful.

* * *

Dean gasped, feeling Sam's bulk press him into the mattress. He groaned, fisting his hands in his jacket, yanking it off to toss it to the floor.

"Oh Dean… I'm so sorry. I must have been insane. Please forgive me." Sam breathed between kisses, peppering his neck and jaw before attacking his mouth almost hungrily.

Dean was already mostly topless, his shirtsleeves hanging open. He hissed, feeling Sam's blunt fingernails digging sharply into his skin. "Sam…"

"Please, Dean… forgive me." Sam sat back, ripping his own shirt off and plunging back down into the rushed kiss.

Dean let his eyes drift shut, moaning into the taste, the lingering flavor of alcohol, mixed with a musky scent. After a moment, he recognized it. The dull, smoky aftertaste of nicotine coated his tongue, striking an unusually familiar chord in him. He pulled back slightly, opening his eyes to meet his gaze.

Through the dark night, bright blue glowed in his sight, flashing with desire and love. Blue eyes mirroring his own roiling emotions.

Blue eyes.

Tobacco.

His aftershave.

Oh shit.

"Sam!" Dean gasped, suddenly shoving at his shoulder. His world was crashing around him, and he had to… he had to stop it. Before it was too late.

"Mmm, yeah Dean?"

"S-sam, stop…" His request was promptly ignore in favor of groping. He growled, shoving harder at the larger man's bulk. No luck. That was it. "Sam… I said… STOP!" and with his final demand, Dean nipped at Sam's lower lip, nearly hard enough to break the skin.

"OW! Jesus, Dean what the hell?" Sam yelped, rolling off of him.

The two fell silent, panting breaths breaking the air in staccato as they gathered their wits about them. Dean sat up, tugging his shirt back into place. "Sam… Why wasn't it you that turned on that light?"

For such a smart guy, Sam really could be dense. "… what?"

"You know… that big bright Dean-light that you can't help but dump your new girlfriend for you old boyfriend?" Dean turned to face him, eyes shining in the night.

Sam paused, rubbing his lip painfully. "Ruby… she's amazing but.. I dunno I guess… I guess I just didn't see what I had right in front of me." He leaned forward. "Dean, please…"

But he was having none of that. "No, Sam. Twelve hours ago, all you wanted was Ruby. What happened?" Dean met his eyes again, watching the tell-tale squirm deep in those hazel orbs.

Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I dunno, Dean I just… I wasn't thinking and you know. You just have to do things without thinking about them." He leaned forward, rubbing a thumb over the apple of Dean's cheek. "I guess I was just afraid of where we were headed…"

Dean felt the soothing touch on his cheek and his eyes drifted shut. Instinctively, he leaned forward, but the brush of Sam's bangs on his forehead snapped him out of it and he pulled back. "No, Sam… You weren't afraid of it with her. You weren't afraid of getting married to her." The silence was deafening. Dean crawled to the edge of the bed, sitting upright to button his shirt up again. "You know… no matter what I might seem like tonight. It's still the same old me from yesterday." He met Sam's gaze again, biting his lip in a mix of guilt and apprehension. "The same old me that just wanted to plant some roots and see them grow."

Sam paused a beat, an honest to God confused look on his face. "… You wanna be a farmer?"

Dean blinked, his face deadpanned at the idiotic remark. "No, Sam…"

"Oh… sorry…"

Dean bit his lower lip, glancing up at his partner for a moment. After all of this… after everything he'd gone through… it had come down to this. And he just couldn't see it any other way.

"Sam… there's just… there's just one thing I don't want any more…"

As he absorbed the statement, Sam leaned back against the headrest, understanding of just what he'd done to fuck this all up hitting him harder than he ever thought possible. With a resigned nod, he pointed to himself, letting his actions speak for him.

"…I'm sorry, Sam."

* * *

The next morning, Castiel stood outside their hotel room, hand poised and ready to knock. He listened intently for any sounds coming from inside. Nothing. Maybe Sam had gone back to his room?

Sighing to himself, Castiel knocked, waiting for a response.

"Yeah, it's open!"

Castiel nodded, entering the room on Dean's go-ahead. "Good morning…" He said, putting on a smug face to complete his illusion.

Dean looked up, his throat closing up at the sight. Castiel looked absolutely debauched, his shirt untucked, belt loose and jacket missing. His slicked-back hair was mussed up once again, and he had the faintest of stubble on his jaw again. Dean swallowed, looking down at the necklace on the table before taking a sip of his coffee.

"So…" Castiel prompted, leaning down to meet Dean's gaze. "How did it go? What happened?" He sat down opposite of Dean, gazing at his form. Dean only wore the pajama bottoms they'd gotten from the shop, his chest bare and wielding the slightest of teeth marks just at the collarbones.

Dean sighed, meeting his gaze. "Well… Sam wants to come back after all."

Castiel's heart stopped in his chest, but he braved a smile, willing himself to feel happy for his friend's success. "Well… congratulations."

Dean smiled, averting his eyes. "So… what happened with you? The old bull back in business?" Deep inside, he didn't want to hear the answer, but… all's fair, right?

Castiel huffed, resting his elbow on the table. "Heh… _ole." _

Dean nodded, glancing towards a rather noticeable bruise on the side of Castiel's neck. He swallowed, willing the orange he'd just eaten back down. "Well… awesome. I'm glad to hear it."

They fell quiet, shifting under the other's gaze before Dean finally broke it. "Well… better get moving. _Cartier_ is waiting for us…" And making a pointed effort not to look at Castiel, Dean stood and strode for the bathroom, keeping his façade on for that much longer. However, the moment the door close behind him, he leant up against it heavily, covering his face with his hands. "Shit…" he murmured to himself, his hands dropping to his sides in defeat.

Meanwhile, Castiel remained rooted to the spot, his eyes burning holes in the table before him. He shook himself back to reality, the weight of what was to come on his mind. Dean had Sam back… he was leaving.

Normally he would feel good about situations like this; assisting the needy. Never had he wanted to be more selfish in his life.


	7. The Illusion is Complete

**Chapter 7**

Outside the jeweler's shop, Castiel waited anxiously. He leaned up against the side wall, his face a practiced calm. Taking a heavy drag on the cigarette in his lips, he willed his quivering hands to stop shaking.

Too many thoughts crossed his mind as he stood outside that jeweler's shop. He hoped the company would buy his necklace, to be sure… but this only meant one thing.

Every moment Dean stood inside that building drew closer the fateful moment he would step on that plane again and out of his life. How he wanted to savor every moment he had… but… it would never happen. Dean had his Sammy back, and that was that. He frowned, thinking to himself honestly.

Why would Dean want a man such as himself? He was nothing more than a dishonest, low-life conman with a pipe dream and 20 Euros to his name. Dean had Sam, a successful lawyer with dashing good looks and everything someone as perfect as Dean could want.

Castiel couldn't even bother to shave every day.

Resigning himself to the inevitable, Castiel closed his eyes and willed time to slow even by a millisecond. He'd treasure his last stolen moments with Dean… treasure until he could treasure no more.

* * *

Dean watched the manager and _Gendarme_ Lambert converse quietly to themselves for several minutes, before attention was once again drawn to him. He sat up, watching with bated breath as the manager turned to her computer, typing furiously on the keyboard. As she did so, Gabriel filled out a small stack of paperwork, handing each sheet to Dean for his signature. "So… will it go through?"

Gabriel looked up at Dean, a smile on his face. "Yes, indeed. Your back in Detroit has graciously wired the contents of your savings account directly to _Cartier_'s bank, and the money will be transferred to cheque. As soon as the money transfer is complete, the amount will be written and… well we'll just pretend none of this has happened…" Gabriel trailed off, the smile turned wistful on his features.

Dean nodded, feeling relieved. It was going to work after all. That morning, before Castiel's arrival back at the hotel room, Dean had called the _Gendarme_ with a proposition. He'd thought about what he could do to spare his friend jail-time and to the forefront of his mind, Dean remembered the high rate savings account he'd started several years back, the money accruing for his use. The original intention was to save up enough money to start a nest egg for his new life with Sam. Now that he didn't have Sam, the money was his and his alone, to do with as he pleased.

He slumped into the back of his seat, a small smile on his lips. It took another twenty minutes before the transaction was complete, but soon enough a slip was placed before Dean. He picked it up and read the amount to make sure it was correct. He nodded.

**$76,782 **stood out in bold on the cheque's face, authentic and his.

Gabriel smiled, placing a hand on Dean's shoulders. "Everything is as you said. The illusion is complete." He picked up the stolen necklace reverently, placing it in a velvet lined box. He looked up to see Dean holding the cheque gently, eyes boring into the paper almost longingly. "Dean… why are you doing this?"

At his name, he looked up at the _Gendarme_, thoughtfulness writ on his features. "Hm?"

"Why are you doing this for him? You're not with Castiel. You're not going to see him again…"

A silence passed between them while Dean thought of his answer. After a long moment he smiled, shaking his head. "… I dunno…"

Gabriel smiled, standing up. "I must come to America someday… you are a very sympathetic people."

"Well… I'd say that's a rare breed…" Dean stood, pocketing the cheque. He turned to leave when a thought occurred to him. "Just out of curiosity…" he started, looking back at the officer. "How much is the necklace really worth?"

Gabriel turned to the jeweler, murmuring to her for a moment. He blinked, an amused smile flashing in his eyes. "I would say…" he reiterated, turning back to Dean, "… over $200,000."

Dean balked, glancing down at his now very meager cheque. He offered a weak smile in return, striding through the doors. Outside, he motioned for Castiel to follow him, a slightly resigned slump in his shoulders.

"Well? How did it go?" Castiel asked, striding up to meet him. He saw the look on his friend's face and instantly grew nervous.

Dean said not a word, simply handing the cheque over to him. Visibly screwing himself up, Dean awaited the blow.

Castiel frowned, staring at the cheque-face with bewilderment. "… 76, 782… b-but… but this! This is not possible!" he cried, looking up at Dean with a mixture of frustration and despair. "_Porquoi?" _Fully enraged, Castiel stormed off, leaving a sheepish Dean in his wake. After several paces, he whipped around, glaring. "You! Why did I listen to you and your 'exotic American' bullshit?"

Dean bristled, having had enough of being put down for his efforts. "Hey don't yell at me! They said there were beautiful diamonds, but officially there were flaws!" Crossing his arms defiantly, Dean watched the thief slump into the nearest bench in defeat. He immediately softened, sitting down next to him. "Cas… I'm sorry…"

A moment passed between them before Castiel held a hand up, gathering his wits about him. "It's ok… it was eh, not as much as I was hoping for but… it will be enough to buy the land." He turned to his friend, a small spark of renewed hope in his eyes. "It will be at least two years before I get a decent crop put down but… it will do."

Dean blinked, surprised at how easily off the hook he was let. "Really?" He stood, facing the thief head on.

Castiel nodded, joining him by the boardwalk railing. "Indeed. Thank you, Dean. You are my… heh. You're my angel of luck." He turned to him, adoration bright in his blue eyes. "Who would have thought it?"

Dean met his gaze; the intense, bright gaze that had his limbs tingling like livewire. He felt the heat of a blush growing in his ears, and he nodded. "Y-Yeah… no problem, Cas."

Their eyes locked, the world about them falling away into white noise and indiscernible shapes. Unable to help himself, Castiel found himself leaning towards Dean, hand reaching for his shoulder. But just when he felt he would give into his body's will, Dean met him, pressing a kiss to each cheek in farewell.

"I have to go… Sam's waiting for me." Dean murmured, his voice cracking on the last syllable. He bent to retrieve his backpack, daring not to look at his friend a moment longer. He couldn't imagine it. He was leaving. This was really happening…

He turned to go, intent on just walking away from it all; intent on just forgetting. But the moment he heard "Dean!" float over the air, he shamed himself for turning so quickly. His heart hammered in his chest, watching as Castiel struggled internally for a moment. God, what…

Castiel frowned, willing his tongue to speak. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to say it. All he could offer was a smile and a wave. _You coward! _He thought to himself, watching in dismay as Dean turned from him and walked away.

He didn't think his heart could break any further.

* * *

The cab pulled up to the airport entrance, depositing its passenger quickly. Dean stood before the doors, listening to the bustle of airport traffic around him. He sighed, forcing himself to cross the threshold. The moments passed before his eyes as he made his way through the security checkpoint. His ticket, courtesy of Gabriel, sat snuggly in his pocket, heralding his flight back to Michigan. Yet he felt no joy. He felt no longing to return to Detroit. It just…

It no longer felt like home.

In a saddened haze, Dean finally found his gate, checking the times of his flight. Just as it should be. With nothing else to do, he sat down, staring out the window to the runway beyond. It was this very same runway he'd left with a thief at his side and an adventure he'd never forget before him. As he waited, his mind drifted to his last few hours in Castiel's company. A smile, barely perceptible, crossed his face and he leaned back in his seat.

The first thing he thought of was eyes. A pair of sharp, beautiful eyes twinkling with mischief and hidden secrets. He'd never forget those eyes. No matter what someone had told him, not long ago.

He'd never forget those eyes.

* * *

Castiel wandered along the boardwalk, the hours of the day slipping by in a fog. The sun was just beginning its descent, the waters gleaming merrily in the day. However, he felt no joy from the sights. He didn't think it would be any time soon that he would feel content again.

After wandering for a bit he stopped, pressing his elbows to the railing keeping passers-by from the water below. As he stood watching the wharf before him, he heard indistinct shouting down the way. He turned, wondering what the commotion was, before he froze.

Down the boardwalk stood Sam and Ruby, the two locked in a heated argument. As they fought, Ruby suddenly turned to walk away from Sam, only to be snatched back into his arms and pulled into a pleading kiss, heavy and needy.

Castiel felt something wrench in his chest as he watched them. Sam… was here. But…

A horror filled him as he watched the lover's quarrel. He was so enraptured by the exchange; he didn't notice the approach until he was no longer alone.

"_Ah, love… it is beautiful, no?"_

Castiel turned, face to face with his companion, Gabriel. _"What are you doing here?"_ he inquired lightly, turning his attention back to the boardwalk. He didn't care so much for an answer, anyway.

Gabriel smirked, looking at his friend. "_Someone paid their hotel fee with a stolen credit card." _At this, he gave Castiel a knowing look. _"I've taken care of that already…"_

The two friends, the cop and the thief, stood in silence as they watched Sam and Ruby rejoin as lovers once again, locked in a forgiving embrace. They kissed in the sun, ignorant of the two men watching them with understanding.

"_That's not true love…"_ Castiel spat, shaking his head in disbelief. How could this man, whom had told his Dean mere hours before how much he desired him? It made him physically sick with the knowledge.

"_What do you know about true love?"_ Gabriel paused, waiting his friend's response. When none came, he laughed, tugging on his elbow to urge him follow. "_Castiel… you are being foolhardy. What are you doing?"_

"_I-… I don't know, Ok? I'm having doubts, and… and I don't know what's right anymore." _ Castiel met his gaze, watery blue eyes boring heavily into honey brown.

Gabriel took pity on him, offering a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. "_If you like, I can enlighten you. I know a very good story about true love…"_

"… _Really?"_ In all honesty, if Castiel could garner some comfort to his broken heart, he'd take it. "_Does it have a happy ending?"_

"_Honestly? I don't know. Maybe you can help me write the ending…"_

The thief froze, giving Gabriel a confused look. _"Me? How?"_

Gabriel smiled, a mischievous grin that normally sent Castiel scurrying from him in preparation for another game of cat-and mouse. But this time, it held no worry. Gabriel withdrew something from his pocket, waving it in front of Castiel's face.

It was an airport gate-pass.

"_Imagine… an airplane…"_

_

* * *

_

Dean checked his seatbelt once before settling into his seat. He opened the blind, staring out at the looming runway before him. The airplane had not begun taxing out from the terminal yet, so he had a few moments to collect himself. However, he felt none of the apprehension he'd felt a mere week before on his first flight ever. In fact, he felt completely at ease in that seat.

He sighed, pressing the back of his head into the headrest. Closing his eyes, he willed the plane to just take off already, so he could put this all behind him, and hopefully forget the sense of loss he now felt. Dean took a deep breath, settling back into the seat with defeat.

He didn't notice the seat next to him suddenly occupied.

"Dean?"

Dean froze, a silent gasp in his chest. But as the initial shock wore off, a huge grin spread across his face. "Yes?" he whispered, never cracking his eyes open once.

"You are not afraid to fly anymore?" Dean shook his head, the grin wavering slightly. "What is it… are you thinking about home?"

Dean bit his lip, his hands fisting his knees. "Not really… I mean… not Detroit…"

"What are you thinking about?"

Dean felt a hand slip into his, fingers wrapped in a warm embrace. His heart fluttered in his chest, and the smile returned full force. He opened his eyes to meet blazing, shining bright blue. He knew he probably looked like a girl at this point, but damn it if he cared. "I'm thinking about a little stone cottage on a hill… next to a beautiful vineyard."

Castiel smiled, eyes hopeful as he gazed into Dean's. "What else?"

"… you."

Castiel felt as if his heart would burst. He leaned in, giving Dean's hand a gentle squeeze. "And I am thinking you should not be flying anywhere. In fact… I am sure of that." with emphasis, he took both of Dean's hands into his own, pulling him closer. "I am thinking….I want you…"

Dean waited, the suspense nearly killing him. His blood ran hot and loud, thrumming in his ears, and his hands shook in Castiel's. "You want me…" he prompted, his voice breaking in excitement.

"… that is all." Castiel smiled, eyes pouring nothing but love and devotion to this man he'd fallen for-and would fall for a thousand times again. "I want you."

The very heavens sang with his elation. Dean smiled, positively overjoyed by his friend's-his lover's-words. With trembling fingers, he traced the outline of Castiel's jaw with such a tender caress, he rendered him speechless.

Neither noticed their surroundings, lost in their touch. The two leaned in, joining in a kiss they'd been waiting for; joined at last. It was perfection …

It was La Vie En Rose.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The alarm blared, waking Dean from his deep slumber. He floundered in his half-doze, palm connecting with the snooze button before he buried himself in the blankets again. He turned over, expecting to feel the warmth of a body against his. Instead he hit cold sheets.

Blinking his eyes open, Dean looked about the room blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. After a moment, he got to his feet, striding to the bathroom to prepare for the day. As he busied himself, pulling on the shirt he always wore while jogging, he smiled.

He'd had a wonderful dream the night before, the fuzzies of its delight still warm in his stomach. Dean grinned, tying his shoes quickly before striding from the bathroom.

The house was awfully quiet. He frowned, looking perplexed for a moment before shrugging it off. He'd deal when he came back from his run.

Stepping out into the crisp fall morning, Dean felt his energy ramp up with the cool air about him. He screwed the earbuds into his ears, taking off down the lane. The sun was just beginning to break the horizon, birds chirping merrily in the early morning hours. It was absolutely peaceful. Already he knew it was going to be a beautiful day.

* * *

After about an hour, with the sun well on its way into the too-clear sky, Dean gave pause to observe his surroundings before turning back. As much as he enjoyed his morning runs, he didn't deny he looked forward to a cup of coffee

He'd just turned up the lane to approach the house, when something caught his eye. He turned, his eyes gazing over the field beside him.

There, out amongst the rows of vines, the still form of his partner remained, gazing with fondness upon his crop. Dean smiled, turning away from the door in favor of joining Castiel out in the vineyard.  
He snuck up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. "Morning!" he breathed, nuzzling the back of his neck affectionately.

Castiel smiled, turning around in the circle of Dean's arms to face him properly. He pressed a kiss to those too-plump lips, savoring the early morning dew and musk from his run on his skin. "It appears you may need a shower, Dean…" he said, jesting him.

Dean gave him a mock-scorned look, threatening to pull away from his embrace. "Say no more, I see how it is…" He started, tugging to break his hold.

Castiel was having none of that. He tugged him firmly, pulling him practically over the wires separating the rows of vines and into a crushing kiss. The two locked instantly, pouring their passion and devotion for one another into one of their too-many kisses.

Despite what one may think, Castiel was far too fond of physical contact, always finding an excuse to be touching Dean somehow. Be it the brush of a pinky or their midnight couplings, it didn't matter. He loved being able to feel his partner, know that what they had was real and tangible. Sometimes he still woke from dreams, wondering if what he had was real; if it all wasn't made up in his head.

Those mornings, he turned over to pull the sleeping form into his arms, never letting go even well into the day.

After what seemed too short a time, Dean pulled back. He blushed, averting his eyes. "Yeah… you're right I better go catch a shower."

Castiel smiled, holding Dean's hand extended over the wires. "Hmm… sounds intriguing. Shall I join you?"

Dean smirked, giving his ass a smack. "You're so needy."

"Would you prefer I took photographs?"

"Well it would last longer." Ah, the age-old retort.

Castiel laughed, the two of them finally crossing into the drive. "Oh I don't think I'll go that route. I don't normally adhere to the "look-don't-touch" policy."

Dean gave him a low whistle, arm slung around his shoulders. He gazed lovingly at Castiel, pushing the tresses that had gotten just a bit longer since their first meeting three years prior. He smiled, watching Castiel practically purr under the attention, nuzzling into his hand as Dean fondled his hair. "What's the plan for today?"

Castiel shrugged, following Dean into the bathroom. "Nothing, actually. I apologize if I woke you this morning. It appears that we finally have an interest in our grapes. Domaine du Vieux Lazaret has finally shown an interest in our stock!"

Dean grinned broadly, kissing Castiel heatedly. By this time, the water was already flowing, the room steaming up from the heat. He took Castiel's hand in his, tugging him over to the side of the shower. "Don't worry about it, Cas. And that's great news! Looks like your dream is coming true after all!"

Castiel smiled, pressing a finger to his lips as he slowly strips the shirt from his body. "No, Dean. My dream came true three years ago."

Dean so did not do girly moments, but the moment his Cas uttered those words, he felt his manliness leave him in a swoop of giddiness.

Castiel sighed, eyeing his lover up. "You're still too clothed…" He murmured, waggling an eyebrow at him suggestively.

"I could say the same for you." With that Castiel shrugged, divesting himself of his jeans. He watched hungrily as Dean stripped himself before his lover's eyes. "Now… where were we?"

Dean and Castiel spent the day lazing about the house, making slow, sweet love wherever they saw fit. The shower. The couch. Even the table or floors were fair game. It didn't matter where they made love. All that mattered was the two had each other. And they wouldn't have it any other way.

Finally, at the end of just a riveting day, the two collapsed into bed, curled around each other dearly. Dean buried his face in the side of Castiel' s neck, tracing nonsense patters into the expanse of the milky-white, firm chest. He grinned, hearing a pleased little purr escape his lover.

Castiel smiled, pressing closer. "Go to sleep, Dean. I love you."

"M'love you too…" Dean murmured, already half-asleep on his chest. As Castiel watched him sleep, he turned to the side table, partaking in his nightly ritual of remembrance. On the small table lay various papers, one of them being the completed form for Dean's French citizen ship. Castiel smiled, looking over each piece of paper, eyes finally falling on the last two sheets.

It wasn't the most perfect of relationships. They had their little quarrels. Castiel mostly teased Dean about this, claiming he just enjoyed the make-up sex. Not that either of them were complaining about that little detail.

They had been there for three years, as a reminder that true love isn't just resigned to fairy tales and settling for Mr. Almost. They sat there as a reminder that although life doesn't go quite as you might plan it, you make the best of it, and things fall right into place-and your heart.

As Castiel mulled over these thoughts, he placed the items down again, wrapping himself around the sleeping lump to brush his lips over his temple. "I love you..." he whispered, stealing one last glance to the table.

The last two papers- a gate-pass and an airplane ticket- stood out, reminding Castiel of the flippancy of fate. As flippancy goes, he wouldn't have it any other way.

**THE END**


End file.
